At the ceremony, my mother-in-law came over to me and ripped off my wig, showing everyone my bald head. But then something happened that no one could have predicted. 🫣😢
Last year, I was in a hospital bed and didn’t know whether I would live to see the next month, let alone get married. I had been fighting cancer, a terrible conflict that affected my body, my mind, and everything else in my life. The treatments never ended. The chemo made me weak, and with each dose, I lost a part of myself that made me who I am. I started by thinking about my strength. After that, I got hungry. Then my hair.
There were times when I couldn’t look in the mirror because I didn’t know who I was anymore, not because I was scared of what I saw. But he stayed through it all. The man who held my hand as I walked through the hospital, gave me jokes when I couldn’t sleep, and wiped my tears when I woke up shaking. When the doctor finally stated, “You are cancer-free,” I cried not only because I was happy but also because he had stayed for me and never left.
Not long after that, he asked her to marry him. It wasn’t huge or flashy. We were eating takeaway on the couch in our jammies. He said, “Will you marry me?” while looking at me, bald, feeble, and covered in a blanket. And I did. Without a question.
From that point on, the wedding became my new aim. Something fun to look forward to after all the fear. I poured my whole heart into it. I chose soft lilac colors, vintage lace, and a bouquet of peonies and wildflowers from the yard. I saw myself walking down the aisle, looking fresh and bright. But my reflection revealed a different story: I had no hair, tired eyes, and a body that was so thin that I hardly recognized it.
I bought a wig. I acquired a wig not to hide my looks, but to help me feel more like the woman I used to be. I didn’t tell a lot of people about it. Only a few people, like my close friends, family, and groom, knew what was going on. I didn’t think anyone else needed to know. It wasn’t shame; it was staying alive.
But my mother-in-law never liked me. Even before I was diagnosed, she had been looking at me with cold politeness. After I got sick, the warmth went away totally. Even though she never said it out loud, I could feel that she thought I was weak, broken, and maybe even unable to have kids. Her son deserved someone who was strong, full of life, and whole. A different individual.
I believed the wedding would make things better. I prayed in my head that she would alter her mind. I hoped that seeing her son happy would change her mind. Instead, she did something that I will always remember.
The ceremony was barely getting started. There was lovely music playing and people were whispering about how excited they were in the chapel. The chapel was shining with golden light. The man who had never let go of my hand stood next to me at the altar. I felt full in my heart. There was a lot of love in the room.
Then she marched down the aisle with a purpose, not with grace or respect. I assumed she would be coming to offer a prayer or something nice. Instead, she walked forward with her eyes furious and her lips thin. She quickly reached out and pulled the wig off my head.
In that one moment, my secret was out and I no longer owned it. My bald head was a statement of my fight, my pain, and my survival.
“Hey! There is no hair on her head! She laughed at him, her voice full of rage. “I told you. But you didn’t pay attention.
The room halted for a moment. There was a short breath. Some people turned around and departed, while others gazed in surprise. A few other people, and I will never forget this, struggled to hold back their laughter because they thought it was a joke. I put my hands on my head as if I could somehow get my pride back. My cheeks are sore. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t breathe.
I cried a lot. I didn’t cry because I felt ashamed of being bald. I cried because someone had taken my choice and used it as a weapon.
But then, out of nowhere, I felt warmth all around me. I felt strong, sure arms wrap over my shoulders.
My spouse. My man.
He held me, gently touched his forehead to mine, and then turned to face the woman who had just tried to ruin our day.
“Mom,” he said, his voice firm but not trembling. “You need to leave now.”
She blinked in surprise, and her lips were already half-open to argue. But he wouldn’t let her say anything.
“You don’t respect my wife.” You are not being polite to me. I made my choice, and I would select her again and again. I would give up everything for her because she is stronger than anybody else I know. If you can’t respect that, you don’t belong here today.
She thought about it for a second. Her face transformed. She looked around the room at the people who were watching her, not to encourage her but to judge her. And then I saw something weird in her eyes for the first time: shame.
He kept talking, but this time he spoke more softly, albeit still with the same force.
“Do you recall the time you were sick? When you thought Dad would go? He stayed. He loved you no matter what. I love her precisely like that. Go ahead. Don’t make things worse.
There was no sound in the room. Then she slowly turned around. Stop chatting. She gave up fighting. She went away alone.
Then something incredible happened.
People who were strangers, friends, and family began to stand up. One at a time. Some people clapped, some nodded, and some just smiled through their tears. My dad walked up and kissed me lightly on the head. My maid of honor handed me a tissue with shaky hands.
At that time, I thought I was the most beautiful person in the world.
People noticed me, not because of my makeup, hair, or clothes. People loved me. People loved me not because of my scars, but because of them. It was because I kept going. Because I said the truth. Because I had decided to be joyful.
My spouse grasped my hand, looked me in the eyes, and stated in a calm voice, “From now on, everything will be fine.” We will face life together.
And we did. We moved on, not into a perfect life, but a real one, even though we were bald and had a damaged past. A strong one. One that was built on love, truth, and kindness that couldn’t be broken.
She couldn’t even change her mind.
