My mom had the strangest wishes for me when I was growing up. The strangest one, in my opinion, was the fact that she wanted my hair to be long until I was 18. She cut my hair herself, making sure that it remained past my shoulders. I often asked her about this and she said that she wanted me to be able to say to people that I had my hair long until I was 18. Never mind the fact that this is a really weird thing to say to people. She wanted my hair to be long and it stayed so... until I was 15.
One evening I was sitting in my bedroom, staring in disgust at my hair in the mirror. Having seemingly recovered from Trichotillomania a year prior, my hair was now growing back, but was uneven in many places. In some areas my hair was halfway down my back, while in other areas my hair was barely reaching my shoulders. Now, I was quite glad to no longer have enormous bald spots all over my head, but I felt like somehow, this looked even worse.
You have to understand... this was simply agonizing. I couldn't do anything with my hair to make it look cute or stylish. I was embarrassed to go to school looking like this. So that evening, while staring at my hair, I grabbed the craft scissors and decided to even the mess out. Not exactly the smartest of choices, I know, but I was tired of looking like an old Raggedy Ann doll that had been chewed up by the dog. So, I snipped (okay, I SAWED) away my hair and voilà! I was now the owner of a stylishly messy bob haircut.
Of course, now I had to hide the evidence from my mother. I flushed the discarded hair down the toilet, and put my remaining hair up with a claw clip. Somehow, the next day, my mom didn't notice that I was now missing a good deal of hair length.
She must have been incredibly busy or something to not notice this. In fact, she didn't notice for a week or so, and I suspect she wouldn't have noticed for even longer than that if it hadn't been brought to her attention by a friend of hers. This friend of my mother's had seen me walking around school with my hair down and had gushed over how cute it looked. I should have realized that she was going to tell my mom how cute I looked as well, but let's face it, when you're young, you don't really think these kinds of things through.
So one Saturday morning I'm awakened to my mom screaming at me to get up and to let my hair down. I took it out of the clip and showed it to her, and she grounded me for two weeks. To be honest, I thought that she wanted to kill me, so I felt that I got off lucky.
Ever since then, from time to time, I've gotten this insatiable urge to chop off my hair. I did this in 11th grade, and again in my first month or so in college. Craft scissors and all.
The thing I've noticed about this is that every time I do this, my hair comes out looking great. There is no unevenness or anything, even though each time I do this, I am furiously attacking my hair with dull scissors. Am I just lucky? I'd like to think so.