I Was Fat-Shamed At The Salon -- Here's What To Do If It Happens To You

I Was Fat-Shamed At The Salon

It had taken me eight months to get that cut.

After my dad passed away of pancreatic cancer, the “war hair” I’d grown as a sort of secret talisman to try to keep him alive was starting to weigh on me. I was getting hard-to-remove knots every day, and rather than being a blessing of remembrance, it was turning into a burden.

It needed to come off.

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