I've been going to my local salon for almost 22 years.  The file they've got on me is almost three inches thick and tells the story of who I've been and what I've dreamed of becoming over the years.  There are the celebrity hairstyles cut from magazines that I've dared to choose, the list of the names of colors I've been willing to try, including the phase when I was a Lucille Ball redhead, there are notes about my pregnancies, and dates of special events when I came in for fabulous up dos and other crazy looks. Other than my gynecologist, I don't believe that anyone has more personal information about me on file than my salon.I spent the better part of this morning there getting my hair cut and colored and, while it's true my outward appearance has improved, the real change isn't on my head, it's in my soul. This morning was my time to unburden myself from bad hair, broken nails, calloused feet and worry. Much like Truvey's in "Steel Magnolias," my salon is also a gathering place for women to come together, to gossip, to bond and to share what it is to be a woman.  It is a level playing field where we meet as equals, acknowledging that we all need a little help to feel more confident and more beautiful on both the inside and outside.  It is time we give to ourselves. In this place, we wear capes, we tolerate perm solution, hair dye, nail acrylic and other indignities with no fear of judgment.It is also a place we come to heal. I have held the hands of friends as they had their heads shaved once their hair began to fall out from chemotherapy.  I've watched how the touch of a hairstylist soothes; how that touch and a willing ear can make all the difference as one person's terrifying moment can be eased by the kindness and humanity of the one holding the scissors. I've stood by while wigs were fitted, cut, recut and made perfect for someone who no longer recognizes herself.  I've seen the kindness, the patience and the ability to ease mental and physical pain. We all open the door with bad hair, chipped nails, and our own burdens. When we leave, each of us is transformed; nurtured by each other and by those whose spend their lives touching our heads, hands and feet, but most importantly, our hearts and souls.