I despise having to get up and talk in front of large groups. In my opinion, a crowd is full of faceless people that are watching my performance and judging me by that one performance. Speaking up has been a lifetime struggle I've had. But the truth is that I am afraid of mistakes; having the fear of being criticized harshly. Every day there are many chances to speak up in class. Be confident in yourself, I always tell myself, but I am a coward. The fear rules over and I am ashamed of myself. I had several chances that I did not take. All I had to do was raise my hand.

My two month trip to Paris during the summer of 2009 changed my self confidence completely. For others, it may have seemed simple, but for me it was a change that I could accept.

The female barber had finally arrived at our house. I was in the bathroom, making my hair wet like I was instructed. I took a final look in the mirror before I rushed out of the bathroom, adjusting myself on the seat. I waited anxiously as she cut my locks, watching as the pile of hair on the floor grew larger. I winced a few times when she harshly pulled a few locks, but when she was done my head felt lighter.

I peered warily into the mirror, as if I were afraid of hating what I would see. I inwardly went into shock at the person staring back at me. Bangs. Simply put, I was looking at a different person. A different person, but at the same time it is me. The mirror tells no lie. A new me, a new start. A goal that would constantly haunt me, like a ghost. A ghost to remind me to speak instead of staying silent.

That fall, I had a three minute presentation to sign up for, which I picked an early date to present on. The days passed by quickly, and it was the day of my presentation. I stood up shakily from my seat, trembling with a mixture of excitement and fear. As I stood there in the middle of the class, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the violent thrashing of butterflies in my stomach. Then, I began.

Brrrrinnngggg! went the timer, as I ended my presentation and rushed to my seat. A few of my friends gave me a smile and a thumbs up. I smiled shakily back at them. The teacher started his critique on my presentation, I listened carefully so that I would know what I had to do better next time. He handed me the slip with my grade on it, and a grin slid onto my face as I saw the circled red A on it. Really, a simple haircut changed my life.