After children, I no longer had 45 extra minutes, let alone 45 extra minutes two to three days per week. As a result, my hair was usually dirty and knotted. The knots would get so bad that I frequently had to use kitchen scissors to cut them out. Every strand started to feel like a reminder of how out of control and detached from myself I felt, and of how little balance I had. I’d always believed that if ever I became a mom, I would be one of those magical humans who seem to divide their time perfectly between parenthood, work, friends, love, and personhood. In truth, I couldn’t even balance parenthood with showering. So I got rid of my hair, hoping it would be one less thing to worry about, hoping it would help me reclaim myself.