He Cut My Hair. I Cut Him Off.
My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig.
"Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect."
I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess.
Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad.
Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?"
But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood