My Last Days with Her

It’s funny that I’m only just realizing this.

I’ve been grappling with my fear of sharing the most tender, vulnerable parts of myself for so long, yet here I am, on the eve of shaving my head—preparing to uncover so much of what I’ve kept guarded.

This turning of the leaf feels so different from when I first shaved my head fourteen years ago. I am so much more present for this transition. This entire past week has felt like an intentional ceremony: gathering the loose ends of this chapter and allowing myself the time and space to honor the woman I am saying goodbye to.

I took my hair for one last dip in the ocean.

There, I felt her embracing my body, swirling around me like an aura as we floated beneath the pristine early October sky. We swam until my body grew too cold, and then we watched the ombre sunset blend into violet before it slipped behind the horizon.

Afterward, I took her on a retreat to the Santa Monica Mountains.

I found a private, serene cottage in Topanga Canyon with an eastern view and an outdoor bathing space—a place to pay my last homage to this beautiful crown I’ve had the blessing of wearing these past several years.

I spent slow mornings watching the sunrise with a cup of tea. I stretched in the sun and reflected. Then I arranged my hair in ringlets, and together we explored local trails, shops, and cafés.

On our final evening in Topanga, we bathed beneath the warm, open sky, and I gave her a special washing.

It felt tender, deeply personal, and significant.

During the retreat, I noticed my chest tighten and my breath quicken in a panic as I felt the fear of the chapter I was preparing to enter. Can I truly allow myself to be seen more fully than I ever have before?

I wavered about my decision many times. But I listened to the little girl within me who was so frightened of being exposed, and I reassured her: we don’t have to do this.

I wanted her to know she had a choice.

Yet each time the initial wave of fear softened, I returned to the same quiet desire.

Yes. I still want to do this.

The decision felt clear, even as the fear remained.

Without my hair, the contours of my face and silhouette would be uncovered. The features I had judged, the asymmetries I had tried to conceal—everything would feel more visible.

And the thought feels both liberating and terrifying.

So here I am, spending this last day with my long tresses.

I thank her dearly for everything she has accompanied me through, and for all she has come to symbolize about the woman I’ve become.

As I return to my apartment in Los Angeles, I finish up the work of this transformative last chapter. I organize, tidy, and clear out what I am ready to release alongside my hair. For even these ordinary gestures have become part of the ceremony.

And tomorrow, beneath the new moon, I will meet my reflection anew.

I’ll see you on the other side.