Sitting in front of the mirror in my New York apartment, I saw a reflection I hardly recognised. I looked sick. My hair was so thin, large patches of my scalp showed through. My eyebrows and eyelashes were practically gone, too. This wasn’t me, I thought. It felt like a nightmare. But it wasn’t.
Until this moment, I had never realised how much my hair had been intertwined with my identity.
Until this moment, I had never realised how much my hair had been intertwined with my identity.
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