When I was five, I decided that my hair was too long, and it needed to be cut immediately. Unfortunately for me, my father did not agree. Unfortunately for him, I cut it anyway.
I used to play behind my sister’s vanity table. It was one of those old-fashioned ones with the big mirror, a set of drawers on both sides and a secret hiding space in between, perfect for a five-year-old to hide. Taking my mother’s special sewing scissors wasn’t difficult. Instead of coloring or playing with my Barbie, I took the scissors behind the vanity.
I prepared for my haircut by taking a section of hair in my hand, closing my fist over it, close to my scalp, and cut the leftover hair, which was a good four inches since my hair was long. Yeah. It was long. Now, I knew nothing about hair cutting, but intuition told me that I should continue the pattern all over my head, which I did systematically.
By the time my mother realized that I’d been quiet for too long and came looking for me, I had cut off most of my hair. Short. It was really short. That night, my sister evened out my hair, and I blocked out the punishment, but I know I suffered for years because it took a long time to grow that hair back!
This post was inspired by Homeschooling Mom 4 Two. Her darling daughter cut her hair recently 🙂