“What am I going to do with all this hair?” I thought to myself as I stood before the mirror. There I was, with hair all over the floor and on my hands. I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, at least not in the moment. I ended up hiding it under the bed, on some shelves and in between couches and carpets. For the rest of the that morning, I just kicked back and waited for mama to get home.
This is actually a pretty funny story, it happened when I was in first grade so I was about seven years old. At that age, I had really long, below my knees, people would call me “Rapunzel”. It was nice and all but it was a tangled, long, and painful brush every morning. Many moms would want to play with my hair and end up hurting me, constantly thinking I was exaggerating.
In school, it was a different a story. I would get teased for having long hair because according to them “having long hair means you have a big head” and believe it or not, that got to my little-seven-year-old-self. They'd just loved to grasp my hair and use me as a horse. You read that right, I said a horse! Teachers didn't think much harm was done, so they watched in amazement. Never did I think that this’d get me to get rid of half of my hair!
Saturday woke me up at around ten in the morning. By that hour, my mama was long gone for work meanwhile my babysitter was preparing breakfast for my brother and I. After breakfast, I took a bath, which was my favorite part of the day, and when I got out, all dressed up and squeaky clean, I told my babysitter that I'd want to do my own hair. So she left me with the door closed. The mirror I was standing in front of also worked as a small door that behind it contained cotton, hair ties, hair spray and of course, scissors. I didn't hesitate to grab them, the second I took them was the moment the scissors went 'chop chop'. Hair fell all over the sink and onto the ground, “Almost there!” I thought to myself, tilting my head to get a right angle of where I was cutting.
Cleaning up all the mess didn't take much effort. “Not bad” I nodded my head before heading out to the living room. A few hours later, I could hear my mama coming up the stairs so I immediately hollered at my babysitter and she met her outside. When my mom came in, she didn't even notice me, she was exhausted from the day's work so she went to her room to sleep it off. I followed her in and made it to her side of the bed, “Mama, my hair isn't long!”
She nodded thinking I said, “Mama, my hair is long!” and it would've stayed that way if I hadn't said, “Look!” my smile faded quickly into a puzzled look when I heard a loud gasp, followed by a scream,
“What did you do?” I turned around so fast and I didn't get no time out. I got kicked out, knocked out, dragged out. Everything just seemed to have come out of a horror film. I ended up locking myself in my room, mama hardly talked to me in two days nor buy me any toys. It wasn't until the third day when she took me out and sent me to get my hair fixed and proceeded to tell me never to do it again. Finally, she asked for hug!
I was like, “You literally just beat me like two days ago!” Seriously, I never understood how parents could be that way. I still don't, they have mood swings every two days. I guess you can say I am confusion….? That wasn't funny, that just means I'm so confused.
Moral of the story, if I want a change, any change at all, to consult mama first or get sizzled later. Never again did I cut my hair, I mean, I don't think I did. I don't think I'd want to anyway!