Mother duck sacrifices everything for her child

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Life hits you like a ton of bricks, Jasmine Hoffman learned this the hard way.
A straight A student with desires in physics and geometry, she was destined for greatness.
An upbringing of poverty left her with dreams of ascending to a higher plain of existing, her family had her back.
Until Anatole.
The notorious womanizer and a fatal flirt among circles of importance.
He cast his spell on Jasmine by complimenting her on her long, jet black hair.
Encounter after encounter, Jasmine fell deeper, under his charms and potions.
On the night of the game that brought the school to victory over their rivals, Anatole got her in bed.
They both undressed and ducked all night.
She thought nothing of it but she was in store for a lot.
Mornings made her ill and vomit clogged the toilet.
Her mother, concerned, took her to a doctor.
Tests were ran, and sure enough, she was with child.
Jasmine cried that night, she called Anatole but he was long gone.
Jasmine’s parents were somewhat supportive, allowing her to stay in their home but she had to keep the father’s identity confidential and she had to buy stuff for the baby with her own money.
Jasmine’s mom cleaned up the morning messes and kept the room clean and her father calmed her nerve with country.
But the cash, the cash, how could she afford to slave away at a job when her schooling demanded more and more.
Her friends were preoccupied by protecting their virginity and teasing boys.
With her anchors loose, she felt herself drowning in guilt.
Mr. Tasner, her teacher for English, was sympathetic to her plight.
He gave her a roll of twenties and advised her on matters of finance.
But when the twenties ran dry, he could give no more.
He’d hate to see her cry, he would wish Anatole would be a man and marry her.
But, taking his cards, he helped as best he could.
“I know a place that can help you”,he said, with somewhat of a choke.
“Where?”she pleaded.
He rubbed his neck,”I have a friend that does cosmetology, he owns a barbershop on the cross of Minster and Crate”
Jasmine stroked her fine hair,”You want me to sell my hair?”
“He offers a good price per inch, probably enough to get you through two months if you’re stingy”
She thought it over: Could she really do this, cut off her entire life’s worth of growth?
Jasmine slept not that well that night, thinking the proposal over and over again.
The sun bathed her room one Saturday morn and she woke with her choice.
As she removed her nightgown and hopped into the shower, her baby kicked with joy.
She caressed her stomach with care and felt up her body.
Her long mane waving at the force of the water.
This would be her last rinse of her long tresses.

A mother’s sacrifice should not be overlooked, her will for her offspring is like thought, never truly dies.
A blouse overtopped by a knitted long coat, loose fitting garments and warmth are key to her.
Hair, up and secure, never dragging on the ground.
Jasmine was ready, there was no turning back.
The air was cold but had a crispness about it, the stroll was brisk but slow, her face was optimistic but somewhat cynical.
She knew when she arrived when the blue, the red, and the white spiraled its way down the pole.
A hypnotic device, tempting women to just walk into the shop and part with their hair.
The tinkle signaled her arrival and a young man looked up from his post.
“Good morning”,he charmed,”How may I help you today, miss?”
Jasmine closed the door and waddled over to the man.
She blushed,”Um… Do you buy hair by any chance?”
“Yes, I do, Ma’am. How much will I be taking?”
“I don’t… know”
“Well, let’s see”
He brought out a tape measure and set her in the chair.
Undoing her bun and letting roll down the back of the chair, the young man measured it out.
“(Whistle) 3 feet 11 inches. Now, how about I take it off up to your neckline or more and go from there”
“How much will that get me”
“Probably $500, give or take, it’s very good quality”
“Then yes, take it off”
“Pumped, are we?”
With that, the young barber combed and tied off four ponytails.
A cape was applied and fastened around the pregnant girl’s neck, the chair pumped up twice and the barber retrieved his scissors.
Taking braid one with a firm grasp, he set to work, cutting through each strand slowly.
Even though her past was being cut off, Jasmine shed no tears.
This was her duty to her unborn child but also her choice.
A personal FU to Anatole who idolized long haired, gullible women.
With a final snip of the shears, the ponytail came off and was laid with its breed.
“I would like to go shorter”,he said, hands on her shoulders,”I will throw in another 50$ as payment”
He cut off this much off, why stop now.
“Okay, but I don’t want to end up bald”
He nodded, combing out her crown and clipping it to the top.
Taking the clip from their mount, the barber applied a guard to it.
He flicked them on and adjusted the chair.
The clippers were pushed up the right side of the head and stopped at the crown.
The hair was buzzed down and the vibration caused the baby to kick.
Like her child, Jasmine also enjoyed the sensation.
The next adjustment signaled that side’s completion.
The barber tilted her head down slightly and sailed the clippers up her backside several passes.
Head up, the last side received its decrease in length.
With the buzzing done, the top was unclipped and the clippers turned off.
With the scissors, the hair was mowed down some.
From back to front, he swept up a line of follicles, trimmed it, and swept it down.
“You like?”
“I guess we can cut an inch shorter”
He smiled and complied, doing the same technique.
The top was now two inches longer than the sides and Jasmine was digging this haircut.
Cleaning up the neckline with mini clippers, the barber also lined around the ears and carved out the sideburns.
“Alright, you are done”,said the young man.
“Thank you”
The man escorted the pregnant woman to the register and paid her.
“This is 700$?”
“I know, that’s for the pleasure of letting me cut it a little shorter”
“I wish I had something to give you”
He waved it off.
“It’s a honor”
With that, Jasmine left the shop with her bill money for her baby.
Jasmine had her baby not long after, named her Crystal and she was the spitting image of her mom.

A few years later, the young man was in his forties but still held his talent for cutting hair in mind.
Agin, the bell tinkled, Crystal walked in. Dark brown hair down down to her waist.
“Excuse me, sir. But do you buy hair”
He smiled,”Why, yes. How much are you willing to part with”

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