18/12/2025
The day I lost my hair, my husband decided I wouldn’t face it alone. I never thought losing my hair would hurt more than the diagnosis. After months of fatigue, doctors explained it was alopecia caused by an autoimmune condition. The treatment stabilized my health, but my hair began falling out quickly. The first time I saw my bare scalp in the mirror, I broke down. I didn’t recognize myself. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried, convinced this would change how I saw myself—and how my husband would see me. He listened that night without trying to fix anything. The next morning, I woke up to the sound of clippers. I rushed into the bathroom and found him shaving his head. He met my eyes and said, “If you’re doing this, I’m doing it too.” My hair will never grow back. But I gained something permanent too: the certainty that I am not facing this life alone.
