After Mom began to lose her hair in middle age, my brother thought it was embarrassing and insisted she eat hair to make it grow back.
He believed you could make up for anything you were lacking by eating it.
As a psychologist, I told him that eating hair was pica, an illness.
Later, I bought Mom fleeceflower root to eat with every meal.
I also took her to get a hair transplant.
But my brother often mocked me, saying, "Mom used to be a good wife and mother, but you turned her into some shameless old woman obsessed with plastic surgery. You ruined her reputation."
As a result, Mom resented me for years.
Then, after her romance in her golden years ended in a breakup, she went mad, slashed my face dozens of times, and ripped out all my hair.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my brother forced Mom to eat hair.
This time, I said, "Human hair is coarse. A horse's tail is much sleeker and shinier, and more suitable for Mom."
