Sunday, July 15, 2012

F*ck the running part; why did I have scissors in the first place?

You've probably all done this before when you were little too..."this" being fancying yourself a miniature hairdresser and cutting your own hair...a lot of it. Just going right to town with the scissors.

I know I have, and it wasn't pretty. I can actually remember doing it pretty well.

My parents were outside doing some yard work, and I was out there helping them. "Helping" them meant I most likely wasn't doing much of anything and instead was pondering what type of hairstyle I'd like to give myself that would work well with my facial structure. After careful deliberation and an exciting new look in mind (hacked, uneven bangs), I slipped inside unnoticed.

I padded into my room and found my lefty scissors...ya know, the ones that actually say "lefty" on them, are rusty, and have red handles. The perfect haircutting tool. And, I remember just casually sitting there over my garbage cutting away as I watched wads of hair drop into the wastebasket. Yep, things were shaping up nicely and everything was going according to plan!

Once done (I'm not really sure how I determined when I was "done"), outside I went. My parents both looked up and their facial expressions quickly changed as they noticed my new doo. But, just in case they hadn't, I said breezily, "notice anything different about me?"

Let's just say it wasn't the best (or the worst) haircut of my life.

I don't have any pics of it, but I did find a perfect photo on Google that looks fairly accurate (if this is your daughter, sorry for infringing on your rights)...red scissor handles and all! However, I'm pretty sure I looked less cry baby face-ish and way more smiley/ecstatic.

2 comments:

  1. I want this to be you so bad -- this picture is the epitome of childhood rebellion!

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  2. i know! i wish it was me too! the red handled scissors in the left hand are perfect, haaa...

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