The Summer Haircut

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I made my way to the restaurant table, hoping they had good food. I sat down and looked at the menu, waiting for my friend Bryanna to arrive. It had been twenty minutes when she finally showed up. “You’re late,” I stated obviously. “I’m so sorry Grace, I had to get gas, and I got caught up buying magazines at the station.” Bryanna was always late. I knew what the real reason was, she probably had just spent too much time on her hair. She had a short red bob, which she had dyed from her natural chocolate color. It hung limply below her chin, and I knew exactly what she was going to say next. “I’m going to get a haircut after this.” Bryanna never kept he hair longer than chin length, usually getting a pixie with a shaved back and sides and a finger-length top, occasionally dying it some crazy color. “You’re welcome to come with me,” she stated, as she usually does. I would normally just brush it off and change the topic, but today it really make me think. I looked down at my dark black hair, which hung limply below my waist. I hadn’t had it cut for two years, when I got a short angled bob. I planned to have kept it for a while, but I never had time due to finishing college and trying to find work. My hair was usually in a ponytail, but I thought that I would wear it down today, I didn’t know why. I responded, “Sure, why not.” There was very notable glee in Bree’s face. “Yay,” she squealed, “ You can finally do something interesting with that long sag of sadness on your head.” I grabbed my hair and felt a little self-conscious. We finished our meal and split the bill, and started to walk to the salon. I didn’t really pay attention to what we were talking about, just thinking about how I would cut my hair. I thought I would maybe chop it to my shoulders, because I could still put it in a ponytail when I worked. When we arrived to the store, we both sat in the chairs at the front. There were two women inside, a middle-aged lady with a long pixie, and a young woman with a multicolored half-shaved bob. The younger woman was chatting with the mother of a girl who’s hair she was cutting. The girl had long bob, and judging by the pile of hair on the floor, it was much longer beforehand. The older woman greeted us and pulled Bree back to her station. I watched as the woman pushed clippers up the back of Bree’s head, removing all the hair there. The mother and daughter, now sharing very similar bobs, left the store, and the young woman called out, ”Next!” I stood up and sat in her chair. “Hi,” she greeted,” my name is Harriet.” “Grace,” I said. “That’s my mother’s name,” she perkily stated. I could tell she was a very chipper person. “So, what are we doin today?” “I think I want to cut it to shoulder-length.” “Are you sure sweetie, that’s over 18 inches of hair?” I was determined to leave this store with short hair. “Yes that’s fine.” Ok then, we can donate it, if you want?” I forgot that this salon donated hair. I thought that it would be nice to donate a little more hair. “In that case, I would like a chin length bob, all hair donated.” “Alright then!” She grabbed a pair of scissors and a hair tie from her desk and put my hair in a ponytail at the base of my neck. “Say goodbye!” She started hacking away at my hair, causing very little emotion from me. While I have cut my hair off before, it was only once. My mother made me keep my hair past my waist when I was young, so cutting it off in college was my freedom. I should have know that I would just have grown it back again. I remembered all the days I spent complaining about the heat during the summers, and my mother telling me my hair had to be long. I hated my hair, but habits are habits. “All done,” squeaked Harriet. My hair was in a long chin length bob, perfectly framing my face. It was shorter, but I knew that I would just grow it out immediately. “Actually,” I nervously said,” I think I want a pixie cut.” “Really, that’s short!” “That’s what I want, shaved on the back and sides.” Harriet wordlessly picked up a pair of clippers and plunged them into the back of my hair. The feeling was sensational, and I could hear Bree celebrate in the background. After ten minutes, I looked up and saw a pixie that was longer than Bree’s, but still the shortest I had ever had it. I generously tipped Harriet, or Harri, as she told me to call her, and set off for home. I knew I would be back the moment I felt the wind on the back of my head.

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