The Vanishing Hair: Part 1

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“Ouch!” I cried as I yanked my hand back from the small figurine on the table.


“Kristy? What happened?” my boyfriend Ryan asked as I looked down at my hand in confusion.


“I think, I think this little statue just shocked me!” I said in disbelief, “how can a stone statue shock me?”


“It can’t,” Ryan said as he handed me a glass of champagne, “it’s a stone statue.”


“That’s what I thought!” I said as I took the glass and tied my expensive pink satin robe around my waist, “but I swear I felt it.”


“Alright, alright, I believe you,” Ryan replied as he sat on the couch, in a tone that conveyed he clearly didn’t, “now come here.”


I obliged, and as I walked by he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his lap as I squealed in protest. He kissed me and I kissed him back, but as we parted and I hugged him close I looked over his shoulder at the stone statue again.


“What is that thing anyways?” I asked, looking at the small, creepy statue that resembled a of a snarling man with elongated appendages.


“That’s Kama Ku, the Mayan God of humility,” he said as I continued to stare at the ugly little statue, “according to legend, he is said to make those who require humility earn it through losing their most prized possession, and then he repays it tenfold when they gain humility.”


“Well he creeps me out,” I said honestly, still unsure of what had happened when I had touched it, “those long limbs are… unsettling.”


“Maybe, but your long hair is arousing me in an unsettling way,” he said and before I could register his words he reached up quickly and pulled the band from my massive bun.


“RYAN! NO!” I said, trying to reach up and catch it, but it was too late, and I felt my warm, soft hair spill through my hands and tumble down my back.


“Oh come on,” he said as he gently grabbed a handful and began fluffing it up for me, “it looks great, no matter what.”


My hair was my pride and joy, and Ryan couldn’t keep his hands off of it. It was a rich, glossy, black, with a brilliant shimmer that came naturally no matter what light was hitting it. It fell in a rippling, shining waterfall to my hips, just to the top of my butt, and moved and danced with a life of its own when I wore it loose (which was almost all the time). It’s length, color, and beauty complimented my petite frame and pale skin, a perfect accessory for any situation.

The one person who seemed to love it more than I did was my boyfriend Ryan, who was constantly stroking it, playing with it, and running his fingers through the silken lengths. He had done it non-stop last night, when I had stayed over at his house for the first time since we started dating a month ago. We still hadn’t had sex, as I always saw that as something worth waiting for until you had been with someone for a while, but we had certainly fooled around quite a bit. Now we sat in our pajamas the morning after, me in a pink silken robe and nightie, and him in a pair of boxers and t-shirt.


“You’re lucky I like you, or I wouldn’t let you get away with that,” I said with a giggle as he continued to stroke my lengths, “are we still on for tonight?”


“I’d say so,” he said with a sly smile, “meet me at Macalister’s at 7? Have a few drinks? Eat? Then we go to the game?”


“You’re on bucko,” I said with a kiss. He was taking me to a hockey game tonight, which wasn’t really my thing, but I figured I would give it a shot since he enjoyed it so much. I went to stand up, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back into his lap.


“Unless you want to stay with me until our date,” he said, “it is a Saturday after all.”


“Tempting,” I said with a smile, “but I have a lot to do. I DO however, have a little bit of time before I need to get going.”


“Then let’s make the most of it,” he said as he slowly pulled open the sash of my robe.


I smiled through the day, getting my car serviced, picking up my dry-cleaning, and getting in a great workout at the gym. I spent the entire time of the treadmill just counting the seconds until my date, my long, luscious ponytail flopping back and forth behind me with each step.


I got home and got ready for my date. I showered, shaved my legs, put on my most alluring makeup, and curled the bottom of my mane to add a lot of body and “oomph” to my long, smooth tresses, making them really stack off my back the way Ryan liked it.


I flicked through my wardrobe and settled on a white pencil skirt and a white satin blouse that did a great job showing off my substantial… assets. I topped the look off with a pair of white heels and a white short-sleeved silk blazer.


“Not bad mama,” I said to myself as I finished applying my lipstick and picked up my purse, pausing for a moment to scratch a small itch on the top of my head.


I reached up to flip off the light switch as I walked out of the bathroom, but as my hand touched the switch it froze as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I looked closely at my reflection, even squinting. Something seemed different than normal, something seemed… off. But as hard as I looked I couldn’t spot anything, so with a shrug I turned off the switch and headed out the door.


“Wow babe,” Ryan said as he met me at the bar and kissed my cheek to avoid my perfectly applied lipstick, “you look AMAZING.”


“Thanks handsome,” I said as he sat in the chair across from me at the bar, “you don’t look so bad yourself.”


“Well thank you,” Ryan replied as he slipped off his blazer and draped it over his chair, “I try to for you.”


“Likewise,” I said, leaning in for a kiss, then pulling back.


“I LOVE what you did with the hair by the way,” he said, glancing at my locks.


I chuckled as I scratched the top of my head again.


“Thanks,” I said as I dropped my hand, “I fluffed it up just for you.”


“That would explain all the volume,” he said, “and the trim came out really good too.”


“Trim?” I said, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “what trim?”


“Didn’t you see your stylist for a trim?” he asked, a little confused.


“Ummm… nooooooooo,” I replied, pulling my hair over my shoulder and looking at it, it didn’t LOOK any shorter, “why? Does it look different?”


“Let me see,” he said, so I tossed my hair back over my shoulders and turned so he could look at it, “hmmmm… maybe I was wrong.”


“That was… weird,” I said, turning my chair around to face him.


“Meh, must have been my imagination,” Ryan said with a smile.


“Yeah, must have been,” I said, reaching up and gently running my fingers through my treasured hair.


The night went swimmingly, the game was fun to watch, and we parted ways as he dropped me off at my place since we both had early days tomorrow. All thoughts of my hair’s condition were gone from my head that night and Sunday. But Thursday morning I banged on Ryan’s door, which he opened quickly with a look of worry on his face.


“Kristy?” he said as I pushed past him, “what is it?”


“Look out,” I said as I rushed past him and stopped in front of the little figurine that had shocked me earlier, “what did you say this thing’s name was?”


“Kama Ku?” Ryan said confused.


“Kama… Ku…” I said as I turned from him and typed the name into my phone’s Google search.


“Hey, I like your haircut!” I heard Ryan say from behind me, causing me to groan, “I can tell you definitely got one now.”


“That’s just it Ryan, I haven’t!” I said as I scrolled through the search results for the strange name, “my hair has been getting shorter and shorter since that weird statue shocked me! It’s only been four days and my hair has gone from my tailbone to my waist, that’s almost two inches gone!”


“And you think this statue has something to do with it?” Ryan asked, skepticism rich in his voice.


“Aha! Kama Ku,” I said, letting the text do the talking for me, “Kama Ku was a Mayan Deity known for cursing subjects with a spell that took their most prized possessions from them, and then repaid them tenfold when the subject learned the importance of life without it.”


“What does that mean?” he asked as I looked at him angrily.


“It means that I’m losing my hair Ryan!” I said angrily as I put my phone away, “My hair is the only thing I’ve ever been proud of, and I’ve lost two inches of it in already. At this rate I’m going to be bald in two months unless I do something.”


“That can’t be!” Ryan said, and I thought I heard something like fear in his voice, “that just… it can’t be Kristy! There’s no such thing as curses!”


“Then what’s happening to my hair Ryan?!?” I said, and he shook his head.


“I don’t know, but it can’t be a curse,” he said, “you must be losing your mind, it must be in your head.”


“In my head?!? I asked angrily, then picked up my purse angrily, “OK then mister, I’m going to Denver for business tonight and I’ll be back Sunday. We will see how ‘in my head’ this thing is when I get back.”


“Kristy wait!” Ryan said, but I slammed the door.




It was slow for a Friday, SUPER slow. As I cleaned my glass and racked them to dry I noticed that my entire clientele was comprised of a pair of college girls being obnoxious at one end of the bar. I couldn’t complain though, they tipped well enough.


“The joys and uncertainty of owning a bar I guess,” I whispered to myself, and almost like magic the girls stood up and walked out with a quick “thanks!” yelled over their shoulder, probably heading out to see the parade on the other side of town that had eaten up my entire clientele for the night.


Just then the door rang, and I turned to see a stunningly beautiful woman with long, dark hair sit down at the bar. She looked to be in her mid-20s, and stood about 5’6″, with gorgeous, dark blue eyes, pale skin, and a killer body. She was wearing a white cable-knit wool poncho over and a pair of skin-tight dark blue jeans and black leather boots, and her hair tumbled long and beautifully to the small of her back.


“Grey Goose martini please,” she said as she looked down at her phone dejectedly and let out a long sigh.


“Long day?” I asked as I slipped her the drink.


“Long week,” she said, “and it’s only going to get worse.”


“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied honestly, “just get some bad news?”


“You could say that,” she said as she took a sip of her drink, “and now I have to tell my boyfriend the bad news, but he already doesn’t believe me. This is delicious by the way.”


“Thanks,” I said honestly as I worked next to her, “and while we are on compliments, your hair has to be some of the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen.”


She snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes, and I immediately regretted my words.


“Sorry,” I said genuinely, “I just… I used to be a barber in college, so I feel randomly compelled to compliment great hair when I see it.”


“Oh no, I’m the sorry one,” she said, a kind smile crossing her face, “it’s just…”


She dug her hand into her rich, thick locks, running her fingers through them in an unconscious act of comfort.


“I meant to say thank you, that’s very sweet,” she said with another smile, “but don’t get too attached to it. I was chuckling because it’s all going to be… gone… in a couple months.”


“You lose a bet?” I asked, already lamenting the loss of such gorgeous locks.


“Not quite,” she replied honestly, “but my hair is definitely living on borrowed time, and my boyfriend is going to hate it.”


“Well, he can get over it,” I said, “you have a face that can easily pull off short hair,” she arched an eyebrow at me, “or… no hair at all?”


She nodded with another sad smile.


“We’ll see about that, but thanks, I really needed to hear that,” she said as she finished her drink and put a generous 20 on the bar, then stuck out her hand “I’m Kristy by the way.”


“Eric,” I said, “you’ll have to come back in a couple months after the shave and show me how it turned out.”


She laughed and arched an eyebrow at me.


“I just may do that,” she said as she walked towards the door.


I hazarded a glance at her and watched her long, flowing locks bounce playfully as she did so, shimmering and glistening beautifully in the light of the setting sun, trying my best to commit the sight to memory since she said that soon such beauty would be nothing but a memory. At the last second she paused, her gorgeous hair fluttering softly back into place as she stopped walking, and I turned back to my glasses as I knew a turn back to me was impending.


“See you around Eric,” she said, and I glanced a raised hand out of the corner of my eye as she walked through the door. As she passed by the window I watched her hair dance in the wind one last time as she walked past my establishment, it was the last time I ever saw that beautiful hair.




“OK, what the hell is going on here?” Ryan said rudely as I walked past him into his house, “your hair is like six inches shorter than it was before you began this whole crazy thing.”


“Four to be exact, and nice to see you too,” I said curtly as I walked past him and made my way to the figurine and picked it up, then immediately smashed it on the ground.


“HEY!” Ryan exclaimed as he rushed over and picked up the pieces, “that cost me 500 bucks!”


“I’ll write you a check,” I said angrily as I sat down on the nearby sofa, “it’ll be worth it if it saves my hair, and even if it doesn’t, it feels good to smash that little fucker.”


“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ryan said angrily as he put the pieces on the table and stood in front of me, “are you insane?”


“I’m losing my hair Ryan!” I yelled as I grabbed two massive fistfuls of my lush, silky locks and held them in front of me, my hair had gone from my hips to just above the small of my back in a week, and was showing no signs of letting up, “my hair is dying because of that fucking statue, and there’s nothing I can do!”


For the first time since this began, Ryan let out a long sigh and sat down next to me, a look of concern on his face, maybe there was hope for us after all.


“OK, you said something like the curse will repay you tenfold if you learned to live without it, have you tried… just saying you don’t need it?”


“That’s the first thing I tried!” I said as I buried my face in my hands, my long, silky locks sliding down both sides of my face as I did so, “I tried renouncing it, saying I don’t need it, saying I hate it, but nothing is stopping this. The last thing I can think of is flat out shaving my head, and… oh relax, I’m not resorting to that unless I absolutely have to.”


I saw Ryan stiffen like he just saw a ghost at the thought of me chopping off my treasured locks, and I began to wonder just how much my hair had to do with his attraction to me.


“Well babe, we’ll figure it out, OK?” he said, gently stroking my hair with his hand, “we’ll save your hair.”


“Thanks,” I said as I leaned into him, and secretly resented his choice of words, which were directed at helping my hair rather than me.


Days passed, then weeks, my hair fading away more and more with every passing hour. Ryan and I tried everything to stop the curse, but to no avail. Every week claimed just over 4 inches, and after another week it had gone from the small of my back to my bra strap, and then after another week it fell to just above my breasts.


As my hair continued to fade away I noticed that Ryan was becoming more and more emotionally distant from me. I tried to work things out, even going so far as to wear his favorite dress on a few dates (a slinky little red satin number), but the resulting arousal was temporary.


My hair was between my shoulders and my shoulder-blades when Ryan finally told me that he thought we should see other people, confirming my suspicion that he wanted nothing to do with a woman who was soon to be bald. It hurt, a lot… especially since my hair, which was normally my security blanket that comforted me when I was feeling blue, was slowly being stolen away from me.


A month after being cursed, my hair had receded all the way to above my shoulders, and continued to dwindle away. Before long it crept upwards until it passed my shoulders… and then my chin… and before long all that remained of my formerly glorious mane was an ugly pixie-length cut that was short enough to spike if I wanted to.


It was that length one night when I was sitting at my vanity in a white tank-top under a gray sweater, and a pair of tiny silk pajama shorts, running my fingers through what remained of my once glorious mane. I knew that at this length I only had about a week left before I was sporting a chrome-dome, and it was time to do the unthinkable.


I reached down and picked up a pair of black and chrome Oster clippers, bracing myself for the tough decision I was about to make. At this point I had been desperately clinging to the last traces of my hair, trying to hold onto it for as long as I could, but if I had any chance of being able to grow my hair back, I was going to have to make the ultimate sacrifice to beat this curse. Cancer patients who lost their hair to chemo were always able to say “it’s just hair, it will grow back”, but I wouldn’t even have that luxury unless I went through with this, and even then, there was a chance it wouldn’t work.


I snapped the switch to the on position, jumping in my chair a little as the clippers emitted a loud “POP” followed by a mean sounding buzzing noise. I held the clippers in my hand motionless, taking a moment to take one last look in the mirror at my remaining hair. I felt my breathing quicken in a near panic, and before long a tiny tear began to form in my eye.


“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to my hair, and then with a loud whine I dug the clippers into the front of my hairline.


My hair may have been embarrassingly short, but it was still super thick, and for a second I heard the pitch of the blades deepen and slow as my thick hairline briefly clog the clippers. After a second though I heard the clippers pick up speed again, and then they began to glide through my hair with a hot knife through butter.


I moved the clippers back from my hairline to deep into my crown, and in the mirror I could see a pale strip of light skin where there had once been short, thick hair, the first step in the final destruction of my hair.


I sat there, motionless, unable to comprehend what I had done to something that had been my crowning glory just a couple of months ago. But then I reminded myself that the remaining hair on my head was nothing but a faint shadow of what it had once been, and this step was the only way I might be able to get it back to its former glory in the future.


Before I knew it, I made another pass over my head, widening the pale strip, and then another… and another, the 2 and a half inch long strands falling softly to the floor, and before long… there was nothing left to shave, nothing left of my pride and joy except the faintest shadow of stubble over my head.


“I look disgusting,” I said out loud, and then I sat back in the chair, buried my face in my hands, and let myself cry long and hard.


The next morning I woke to the sound of my alarm, slamming my hand down to shut it up. I sat up and ran my hand over my head, feeling the rough stubble greet my fingers. It was an ugly feeling, but the fact that it hadn’t faded entirely in the night was a good sign that maybe I did the right thing.


I walked into my bathroom where I had left my severed locks from the night before on the floor, and gathered them up to place in a plastic bag, but as I did so I noticed something alarming.


“No, no, no,” I said as I picked up the severed strands and held several of them in front of me, “it can’t be!”


But it appeared to be. Just overnight, the strands looked shorter than they had when I had shed them last night, which meant that they were still shrinking.


“SHIT!” I said as I stuffed them into a large Ziploc. The strands were enough to fill the bag almost to the breaking point, so I forced myself to put the bag down, go out for the day, order myself a nice wig, and get back home around 8 at night.


And when I picked up the bag, I knew I was doomed.


The bag was visibly deflated, which meant the hair was continuing to fade. I was guessing it would continue to until the last trace of it was gone, and then my stubble would be next, and my hair would be completely gone… forever.


Two days later the curse was complete. I was forced to watch the baggie as it deflated further and further, until the last traces of hair vanished. As they did, I reached up with my hands and rubbed my rough stubble. I knew this wouldn’t last long, as my stubble was embarrassingly short and rough, and over ten minutes I felt it evaporate on my fingers like a puddle drying in the rain.


I sighed and sat down dejectedly, taking a few moments to feel sorry for myself, then I looked down at my phone. I had guessed that the curse would take about 2 months to complete, and as I looked at the date I realized that this entire mess had started 57 days ago, pretty darn close. It was a Wednesday morning, and they knew I’d be coming in late to work because of a “virus”, but I thought “fuck it” to myself, and called Cara in HR.


“Hey Kristy,” Cara said happily as she picked up, “feeling any better?”


“Not really,” I said, uttering a fake cough and making my voice raspy, “in fact, I need to call out for the week, doctor’s orders.”


“Ahhh, well feel better honey, we miss you here, don’t forget to put your PTO into the system,” Cara said, and I smiled.


“I will,” I promised as I scrolled through listings for hotels in Denver, “I have a feeling I’m going to feel much better come Friday.”




It was a crazy Friday night, my bar packed with a combination of loyal regulars and new faces. Much different than it had been about 2 months ago when my bar was a graveyard… when SHE had walked in.


“Why am I remembering that now?” I said to myself out loud as I made change at the till. It was an odd thought to materialize out of nowhere, but one I welcomed since she had been easy on the eyes.


Then something magical happened. Even though the bar was as loud and rowdy as every other Friday night, I somehow heard one voice above all others behind me.


“Eric?” I heard the voice say, and I turned to see… her!


Shit! What was her name? I thought as I smiled at her in genuine delight. She looked great in a form-fitting little black dress with matching black heels, and her hair much shorter than I remembered in a chin-length bob with the ends flipped out. It looked good, but I already missed the old, massive lengths of shiny black hair she had come in with.


“Hey!” I said as I walked towards her, feeling excited when she returned my dumb, goofy grin with a sheepish one of her own, “look at you!”


She smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and in that moment I realized that it was a wig, she HAD gone through with it.


“I need you to do me a favor,” she said, smiling, but in a nervous way now.


“What’s up?” I asked, remembering at that moment that her name was Kristy.


“I need you to take me on a date, is that OK?” she asked, and I could have been knocked over with a feather right then and there.


“You bet!” I said excitedly, “when and where?”


“How does Cho’s at 7 tomorrow sound? I’ll pay of course,” she asked as she bit her lip, then reached up and placed her hand on the back of her head, “just full disclosure, this is a wig. It’s all gone, I understand if you don’t want to see a bald lady, but I thought you should know.”


I laughed out loud, granted her hair was nothing short of spectacular in its former glory, but what I felt with her had nothing to do with hair.


“7… sounds… GREAT,” I said with emphasis on each word, and I saw obvious relief spread over her face, “see you then.”


“OK, OK,” she said with a widening smile, and slipped me a card, “here’s my number if something comes up, OK?”


With that she turned to leave. I didn’t get to enjoy the sight of her magnificent hair swinging as she walked, but I didn’t care as I looked down at her business card and smiled.


When I arrived at the restaurant I was terrified she wouldn’t show, that she was going to stand me up and this had all been some kind of horrible prank on me by my coworkers, but happily that wasn’t the case. As I walked in I saw her sitting there with a smile as she waved to me, still wearing her wig and black dress. I walked up to the table as she stood up and we awkwardly went to shake hands, then hugged instead and sat down.


We made small talk for a bit, and it was a little odd at first. Not uncomfortable, but… odd, probably because we didn’t know the first thing about each other besides our names and the fact that she had recently shaved her head (or so I thought). After a few minutes though, we became comfortable with each other very quickly, and in about 10 minutes I learned more about her than I did about other women I had gone out with several times.


“Thank you so much for obliging my crazy request,” Kristy said as she put down her glass of wine and picked up a menu, “I know I sound terrible, but I feel so worthless right now that I needed to spend time with someone who encouraged me through the whole process.”


“Well I’m more than happy to take you out,” I replied, “but am I going to see the final product?”


She hesitated, not looking up from her menu, then her voice dropped a bit.


“I don’t think so tonight,” she said.


“Gotcha,” I replied, then decided to press my luck, “may I ask why?”


“Because… honestly,” she said as she looked into my eyes over her menu, “I actually need someone to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”


“Creepily?” I asked, a little worried, but her laugh relieved me immediately.


“Not at all,” she said, “but… you know what I mean.”


We ordered, then talked some more while we waited for out food. Kristy was an account manager for a large fashion company, and while she did most of her work from home in Colorado Springs, she usually travelled up to Denver quite a bit. She had a Master’s, loved video games and dancing, and was just recently dumped by some jerk named Ryan who decided to leave her when he found out she was going to be bald.


We talked, we ate, we laughed, we had a great time. I felt more comfortable talking to her than anyone else I had ever met. As dessert rolled around we picked at our dishes, and I cautiously asked why she had decided to shave her head if she didn’t want to show it off.


“Well, I didn’t really decide,” she said as she picked at her molten lava cake, “just suffice to say that I suffer from a condition that… doesn’t let me grow my hair anymore.”


“Like alopecia?” I asked, and she nodded, “but your hair looked perfect just two months ago, I’ve never heard of it hitting that fast!”


“It was a… unique case,” she said as she scratched her head.


“Well I’m very sorry to hear about that, but I know for a fact you can pull it off with your features,” I reassured her. I stopped talking, letting her decide if she trusted me enough to show me and prove me right. She had said no when I asked earlier, but we felt so comfortable that I thought maybe… just maybe… she would change her mind.


As she hesitated and touched the strands of her wig, I knew I was right. After a moment of thought she let out a long breath and looked up at me with a smile.


“Do you want to see it?” she asked meekly.


“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” I replied instantly.


“OK, but you have to promise me you’ll be honest, alright?” she said with a nervous smile, “it’s fine to tell me to keep the wig on, OK? I’m planning on it anyways.”


“I swear I’ll be honest,” I said truthfully.


Kristy reached up, paused, looked at me, and then grabbed her wig with both hands and slowly pulled it off. She put the wig in her lap, looked up at me, and…


“Whoa,” I said as I looked at her, then dropped the complete truth, “you… are so… beautiful.”


“Uh-huh,” she said as she slipped the wig back on, “what happened to my hair being some of the most beautiful you’ve ever seen?”


“It is… It WAS!” I replied quickly, and she arched an eyebrow at me skeptically, “but that was then, and without it, your face, your eyes, they all stand on their own, and… it’s gorgeous.”


She leaned in to look into my eyes, and after a moment her own face twisted into surprise and she leaned back.


“Oh… my… God,” she said as she covered her mouth, “you’re… you’re being serious.”


“I am,” I said as I reached across the table and put my hand on hers, “I really, really am.”


I saw her lip quiver and a small tear appear in the corner of her eye, and she quickly dabbed it.


“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that right now,” she said, and we finished dinner in comfortable silence.


After dinner I walked her to her car, and she turned to face me with a smile.


“I had a really great dinner,” she said warmly, “I feel so much better now, thank you.”


“Can I see you again?” I asked, desperate to continue this and hoping she felt the same way.


“I’m heading back to the Springs tomorrow morning,” she said as she dug into her purse and pulled out her phone, “but I’ll be staying here again Thursday and Friday if you want to meet up again.”


“Absolutely,” I said and she walked over to me for a long hug.


I debated giving her a kiss, but settled on taking it slow and kissed her cheek instead. As she drove off I saw her put the number on the card I had given her into her phone, desperate not to lose it.


Kristy and I got along wonderfully, and before long we were officially exclusive. The weeks went by, each date more fun and exciting than the last. As we went out more and more, her reliance on her wig grew less and less, until the fifth date when I opened my door and there she stood, head bare and beautiful. I smiled broadly and she returned it, then I scooped her up my arms and kissed her long and deep.


I knew that I was going to ask this woman to marry me one day, and I hoped on that day she would feel secure enough with herself not to wear the wig on the alter.


But Kristy’s adventure with her remarkable long hair was far from over… and neither of us knew at the time that something far crazier was coming our way.




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