I Don’t Know Who I Am Without My Hair Parted

Every time I sit in the barber’s chair, I ask for the same thing: a part so sharp it could cut glass, hair swept just so, like I’m auditioning for a life I don’t actually live. I’ve memorized the steps—sea salt spray, round brush, clay for the frizz. I tell myself it’s just routine, but really, it’s armor. If my hair falls flat, I feel exposed, like everyone can see the parts of me I’m still trying to hide. Sometimes I wonder what I’d look like if I stopped caring. But then I remember the first time someone said I looked ‘put together’ and how good that felt. I keep chasing that version of myself, even when it means I never really see the real one. #MirrorFatigue #BeautyBurnout #SelfImageStruggle #Beauty #HairCare