A Woman Was Born With a Lock of Hair in the Middle of Her Forehead and Doesn’t Mind the Hateful Comments

In a world with defined beauty standards, it takes courage to embrace one’s uniqueness fully. Rada, a stunning model, exemplifies this courage as she proudly defends the distinctive patch of hair that grows from her forehead against online trolls and critics.

She went viral for her unique look

At just 18 years old, model Rada Prelevic, also known as Rada Viic on Instagram and TikTok, has captured the attention of social media users worldwide due to a distinctive feature: long strands of hair that gracefully hang from her forehead. Despite the fascination for her unique trait, Rada often finds herself subjected to harsh criticism and hurtful comments online. Trolls label her appearance as «bizarre» and suggest that she remove the locks.

In a candid video shared with her followers, she courageously affirmed that she really loves her hair and she won’t shave it. She also questions herself about why her unique hair bothers so many people.

She was born with it.

The Serbian-born model, now based in Oslo, Norway, where she has been living since the age of 5, shed light on the origins of her distinctive feature. Reflecting on her unusual trait, Rada explained that she was born with it. And there’s no explanation as to why the hair is placed on her forehead and has grown so much. She only knows that the patch is a birthmark.

The hate doesn’t bother her.

Rada’s confidence in her appearance is not only admirable but also inspiring. Despite the online hate, she remains firm in her conviction that her forehead birthmark is a beautiful and integral part of her identity. Her refusal to conform to societal pressures sends a powerful message of empowerment and self-acceptance to her followers and beyond.

The amount of support from Rada’s followers serves as a reminder that kindness and acceptance far exceed negativity. Hundreds of supportive messages flooded the comments section of her post, applauding her confidence and praising her unique beauty.

Her hair helps her modeling career.

For Rada, the unique lock of hair coming from her forehead has evolved into a unique feature, one that she proudly embraces as her personal «trademark» within the fashion industry. She notices that fashion magazines and photographers love her appearance, making her even prouder of the way she looks.

In matters of love and relationships, Rada’s self-assurance extends to her personal life as well. She says that she would never compromise her authenticity for the sake of romantic companionship. She firmly states that she would never be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t appreciate her for who she is.

Rada’s resolute self-confidence and refusal to conform to societal standards of beauty serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of embracing one’s individuality. In the face of relentless criticism and online hate, she remains firm in her self-acceptance, inspiring countless others to celebrate their unique traits and differences without fear or hesitation.

Preview photo credit rada.viic / TikTokrada.viic / Instagram

My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday

As Lila was ready to celebrate her 17th birthday, she received an unexpected and creepy gift from her stepmother: a pink funerary urn. Like the type you keep ashes in? Yes, that’s the one. But that’s not all! Lila learns that her college fund was given to Monica to open her salon. What will Lila do?

Let me tell you, I’ve been sitting on this one for a few days, just trying to make sense of what went down.

I always thought my stepmom, Monica, was the worst, though not Disney villain evil. She was the kind of person who talks over you, forgets your birthday, and calls you “kiddo” when you’re practically an adult.

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

But, what she pulled on my 17th birthday? It shattered whatever shaky truce we had.

At least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, things weren’t exactly what they seemed.

Here’s how it all went down.

My mom, Sarah, died when I was ten, and after that, it was just Dad and me. We were a solid team. The type of team that has pizza for dinner half the week, late-night movies, and this unspoken agreement that we’d always have each other’s backs.

Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney

Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney

Then came Monica, about three years ago.

At first, she wasn’t horrible; she was just… there. Like a stray cat that never leaves, so you have no choice but to adopt it. Monica moved into our house, took over the bathroom with her fifty bottles of face serums and creams, and slowly pushed her way into my dad’s world.

Monica had big dreams of opening a hair salon, which was fine. I wasn’t against people having dreams. I had my own dreams waiting for me, but she treated me like I was just this annoying piece of furniture that came with the house.

A woman's vanity | Source: Midjourney

A woman’s vanity | Source: Midjourney

Honestly, I was counting down the days until I could escape to college.

Dad had promised me since middle school that there was a college fund waiting for me.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he told me. “Your mom and I put together the fund when you were five. There’s more than enough, and every year on your birthday and Christmas, I add more.”

A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney

A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “I just want to study and make something of myself, like Mom said.”

“You only have to worry about your grades, Lila,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Naturally, I worked my butt off in school, knowing that in a few years, I’d be out of here.

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

College was my golden ticket, and no one — not even Monica — would stand in my way.

At least, that’s what I thought.

On the morning of my 17th birthday, I came downstairs expecting the usual lukewarm effort. By lukewarm, I mean a sad card, some pancakes, and Monica forgetting my favorite syrup. Dad was at work, so it was just Mon and I.

A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney

A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney

She handed me a gift bag, which was already weird because Monica wasn’t exactly the thoughtful or sentimental type.

“Happy Birthday, kiddo,” she said, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles.

I wasn’t expecting much, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.

I reached inside the bag and pulled out… an urn.

A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A funerary urn.

You know, the kind that people store ashes in. Cold, heavy, and, well, pink. It was pink.

I just stared at it, my brain short-circuiting.

“What the hell is this?” I asked, holding the urn like it was cursed.

A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney

A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney

Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smug as ever.

“It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.

“Symbolic of what?”

Monica’s grin widened.

A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“It’s time to bury your dreams of college, kiddo. Your dad and I talked about this, and we decided to put the college fund to better use.”

“Better use?” I asked, a cold shiver running through me.

“Yep. We’re investing it in my hair salon. College is a gamble, Lila. A business? That’s something real, sweetie.”

A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney

A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney

She sipped her coffee like she’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world.

I was frozen in place, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Had they really taken my future, everything I’d worked for, and sunk it into Monica’s salon dream?

“How could you do this?” I whispered.

Monica just smiled, a little too pleased with herself.

A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

“Life’s full of disappointments, kiddo. Better get used to it now,” she said.

Wow.

That was it. I was done. I ran upstairs, slamming the door behind me so hard that the walls shook.

I cried so hard it hurt. What else could I do? Everything I had been holding onto was gone, and the only person I thought I could count on, Dad, had let this happen.

An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

My mom wanted me to get out and make something of myself. And now? It was all over.

The next few days were a blur. I didn’t speak to Monica or my dad unless I absolutely had to. Every time I looked at that stupid urn sitting on my desk, my stomach twisted.

I couldn’t even bring myself to throw it out. It felt like some kind of morbid evidence. Like proof of the betrayal I didn’t see coming.

A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney

A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney

At school, my friends tried to cheer me up.

“Maybe she thought it was funny, Lila,” my friend Kira said. “Like, who really knows what Monica is thinking?”

“And anyway, there’s nothing stopping you from throwing it out! Just do it! Don’t overthink it,” Mel said.

Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney

Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney

But still, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Monica was prancing around, acting like she was the queen of the house, while I sat there with no future.

Then, a few days later, something strange happened.

When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk. Not in an envelope, just folded, with my name written in Monica’s messy handwriting.

A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me. -M.

I almost laughed out loud. Trust her? Yeah, right.

But something about the note gnawed at me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to confront her one last time, tell her exactly what I thought of her.

Against my better judgment, I decided to go.

A note on a table | Source: Midjourney

A note on a table | Source: Midjourney

When I got to the salon, the lights were off, and the front door was unlocked.

I hesitated for a second, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. But curiosity got the best of me.

I stepped inside, and there they were. Monica and my dad, standing side by side, both grinning widely.

“Surprise!” Monica shouted, throwing her arms up like this was the happiest moment of her life.

The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney

The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney

I just stared at them, completely lost.

“What is this?”

Monica stepped aside, and that’s when I saw it — a shiny, brand-new sign mounted on the wall.

Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah

I blinked, feeling like the room was tilting on its axis.

A hair salon | Source: Midjourney

A hair salon | Source: Midjourney

“What… what is this?”

Monica smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug grin. This one was softer, almost real.

“We didn’t use your college fund, kiddo. It’s all still there. The salon? It’s not just for me. It’s for you, too. For other kids like you, too.”

I couldn’t breathe.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

“But then, why would you make me think otherwise?” I asked.

Monica winced, putting her hand on her head.

“Yeah, so, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it’d be motivational, like, bury the past and embrace the future. You know? But it turns out that it was just creepy.”

A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney

A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney

I stared at her, speechless.

My dad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“We’ve been planning this for months, Lila,” he said. “Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This salon is going to fund scholarships. For you and for others in her name.”

“The salon has been my dream, Lila,” Monica said. “But it was never going to come at your expense. This way, a great portion of all our profits in the future will go to the fund.”

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what to say.

Or what to think.

Just that I felt a warm haze take over me.

Monica laughed softly.

“I’m not a monster, darling,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take over your mom’s role.”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

For the first time in a long time, I smiled.

It wasn’t perfect, but things with Monica probably never would be. But, at that moment, standing in the middle of a salon named for my mom’s dream, I realized that she wasn’t trying to ruin my life.

She was trying to build something bigger than any of us.

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

And somehow, against all odds, it felt like a new beginning.

And yeah, I kept the urn. But I planted white peace lilies in it, thinking it would be symbolic after all. And who knows, maybe I’ll take the urn to college.

What would you have done?

Peace lilies planted into a pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney

Peace lilies planted into a pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

I Transferred $24K to My Daughter for Her College Tuition, Only to Discover She Never Enrolled — What She Spent It On Made Me Pale

Caroline had been saving for her daughter’s college fund since Angela was born. But after a classmate of Angela’s reveals that Angela is not actually enrolled in college, Caroline must uncover what her daughter is doing and what she used the money for.

Children are always going to break your heart. This was something that I learned the hard way after trusting my daughter, Angela, completely.

A close-up of a smiling girl | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a smiling girl | Source: Midjourney

Since Angela was born, I have been saving for college. I needed to know that irrespective of what life threw my way, I would be able to educate my child.

“I think you can wait until she’s a little older,” my husband, Holden, said. “We can do it together.”

“You can add to her college fund later,” I said, looking at my baby girl. “But I’m going to start from next month. I wasn’t able to study, Holden. And it was because we didn’t have the opportunity to do so. Angela is going to get that opportunity.”

A smiling baby girl | Source: Midjourney

A smiling baby girl | Source: Midjourney

“Okay, Caroline,” my husband said. “You start it now, and I’ll add to it in a year. The house will be paid off, and I’ll be able to put that money into the fund.”

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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