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The Dreaded Trim
The day that I looked down upon each year had arrived. I sat in the chair nervous, dreading what was to come next. I felt my heart pounding through my chest fearing the results of what I was going to like for the next couple of months. If this went wrong, the embarrassment would take over me as I walked through the halls of school, the eyes staring, and the sounds of giggling as they looked at my haircut. She turned on the water. The feeling of nervousness grew. She pulled my head back into the sink and let the cold water run through my hair like a river. My head shriveled up from the cold. I began to accept the fact that “this was happening” and there’s no backing out of it now. The hairstylist gently ran her fingers through my hair; my hair slowly began to hang down and the long black coils began to form. She thoroughly wet my hair, and I stared as she waved the clear spray bottle of water over my head. I winced as the cool water droplets reached my face. My eyes teared up and one rolled down my cheek, fearing the horrible. A full year of hair growth that would be gone within a couple of minutes. She gently lathered the coconut-flavored conditioner throughout my scalp. She massaged my scalp and this warm feeling of relaxation came upon me. All my worries and my anxiety faded away into the distance; I felt a sense of peace. She stopped momentarily and pulled out a pink brush. She forcefully attempted to brush the knots that had developed in my hair. I winced in pain. The feeling of relaxation was gone; my hair getting pulled out of my scalp felt like a needle poking my scalp. Then it happened; she pulled out the silver scissors and took the first snip.
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