I can’t stop running my fingers through my hair as I sit across from Camilla in the bistro café we have come to for a coffee. Lifting the deep black strands of hair and twirling them nervously. I have no idea what my Mom or Leila will say about this drastic change, but the reflection in the hair salon showed me a completely transformed woman. I look and feel, for the first time, that I look my age, and the number of well-dressed men turning our way in passing has not just been for ...