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...I follow the receptionist through the turquoise and white blowout bar past the counter where women perch sipping Bellinis while their hair is dying and their nails are drying. She seats me at a makeshift station set up in a private back room. This is where they serve women whose religion doesn't allow men to see their hair. My stylist, Kat, does not look alarmed when I remove my wig and shove it into my handbag. I pull out bobby pins and shake my long hair down my back as Kat says, "We'll do your color first. What were you thinking?" "I would like to cover my gray and match my natural dark brown color." "I think some red and caramel highlights would look good. Is that all right?" "You're the professional. I trust you." She leaves the room to mix the color and I breathe in deeply for six counts and out completely for eight counts like I had learned in therapy to calm myself. Kat and I haven't discussed how she would cut my hair and I worry it still isn't long enough do anything fashionable enough to allow me to lose the wig. ...NDTV on June 24, 2016, midnight