First haircut

by Jessie K on April 18, 2012

See June with her hand’s in front of her face?  This is her patented “shield’s up” pose — one thumb in mouth, the other fingers fondling the fabric of her shirt.  She assumes this position whenever she needs some loving or is tired or uncertain or needs to go to her special place where unicorns prance and fairies frolic.

First haircuts are nerve wracking — a stranger standing over you wielding a sharp, dagger-like instrument while only occasionally looking up from the Ellen Degeneres show on TV.

June likes Ellen Degeneres.

My mom always cut my hair when I was a little kid.  My mom is not a professional stylist.    She’s an on-the-go, get-it-done, got-shrubs-to-plant kind of lady, so I ended up sporting a lot of bowl cuts as a kid.

Now if you ask my mom about this style transgression, she’ll tell you “that was the style. You kids liked bowl cuts.”   My lowly grade school social status told the real story.  I used to eat friends’ leftover hot lunch creamed corn for a quarter! I thought it would make them like me.  But they were just laughing at the porcelain bowl of hair encircling my pate.

I didn’t want to inflict the same enduring trauma on my daughter, so I sprang for the $10 to $12  to have her hair cut professionally.

She’ll thank me for it.

When she’s about 37.

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