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Bad Haircut (standard:humor, 463 words)
Author: giborimAdded: Apr 17 2003Views/Reads: 2447/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Everyone has that one bad haircut.

“Cut the top short and leave the length”.  I had been asking for the
same haircut for as long as I could remember.  People pay good money 
for hair like mine.  It is a little unusual that a white girl to have 
natural ringlet curls but I would give anything for straight hair, even 
at the early age of twelve, so that I could wake up, brush it, and run 
out of the door. Maybe if I had straight hair none of this would have 
ever happened. 

It was not the first time I went to super cuts but it certainly was the
last.  Sitting down in the chair, the hairdresser, a man probably about 
fifty years old and balding took out his clippers and began to cut my 
hair.  I had never had my haircut by clippers but I was young and 
decided he must know what he is doing.  My curly locks drop all around 
my feet.  Tears started to well up in my eyes.  Trying my best not to 
start crying right then and there, I looked frantically for my mom.  I 
knew she would save me but she had gone window-shopping through the 
strip mall.  I guess she was bored with the idea of watching another 
child get their hair cut. 

By the time the man was done I had the top of my hair shaved and a tail
in the back.  I wanted to cry, to scream, or at least to run from the 
store.  My mom walked in the door and the look of total horror on her 
face only confirmed my feelings.  She knew it was ugly.  Her eyes 
looked at the floor at my curls under the chair and no longer on my 
head; she was horrified, and I knew just how she felt.  I got up from 
the chair with my chin almost touching my chest and my shoulders 
slouched and followed her to the counter to pay.  She tried not to make 
eye contact with me and I noticed she was not looking at me at all.  
She paid and without a word I went to the car and climbed into the 
front seat of her tan aerostar minivan.  This was the only time she did 
not tip a hairdresser. 

I reached into the back seat grabbed a baseball cap that my brother had
left in the car from practice and pulled it over my head looked out my 
window and started crying.  I heard my mom whimper and looked over and 
noticed she too was crying.  Her tears made me feel bad but I was 
devastated.  She put her hand on my shoulder told me at least hair and 
it would grow back and we drove in silence all the way home. 


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