It started as a joke.
A half-serious thought, spoken out loud on a day that already felt heavy with emotion. Everyone laughed at first—“You won’t actually do it.” But somewhere between the laughter and the silence that followed, the decision settled in quietly.
The day of the head shave wasn’t dramatic. No grand announcement. Just a deep breath, a calm heart, and the steady hum of the razor. With every pass, something invisible lifted—fear, attachment, old expectations. Hair fell away, but strength stayed.
There was vulnerability in seeing the reflection afterward. A bare head, honest and unhidden. No shield. No disguise. Just truth.
Then came the smiles.
Friends turned the moment into mischief—hands raised like playful antlers, silly faces, teasing laughter. The heaviness cracked open and joy rushed in. What could have been solemn became light. What could have been lonely became shared.
That head shave wasn’t about loss.
It was about letting go.
It was about choosing courage over comfort.
It was about discovering that confidence doesn’t grow from hair—it grows from within.
And in that simple moment, sitting together, laughing inside a moving bus, it became clear:
Sometimes, when you remove what the world sees…
you finally see yourself. 🌱✨