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The next day, I head into the salon and ask if they can fix it. I have a mini-bowl cut over a half-shaved head.

There are not a lot of mirrors in my house, so I don’t actually see what’s happened until I get out of the shower that night. I head off to do something quiet until I can see again, and when it clears up, I head home. I put on my glasses, blink a little - well, that looks odd - and shrug and decide it’s just looking a bit funny because my eyes are blurry. My hairdresser chats with the other hairdressers, which I’m fine with because I don’t like small talk.

I go into the salon, state what I want, and take off my glasses. It fades in and out, so while I can drive perfectly well, I don’t really trust my own eyes sometimes. I also at this point am having some problems with occasional blurry eyes. There’s maybe an inch on the top to pretend it’s professional. I am somewhere between butch lesbian and trans man, which really only matters in that I wear The Butch Haircut - a buzz cut, basically.