My First Hair Cut

Snip, snip, snip.  Maria, my best friend, had just gotten a haircut.  She was very excited; I was jealous.  May hair was so long, it touched my butt.  It always got in the way.  I wanted more than anything to have shorter hair like Maria.

                Just our luck! My mom had parent-teacher conferences, so Maria’s mom was watching my younger sister and me.  We scurried into the basement to assume out positions.  We climbed over couches and boxes to get to the perfect little nook to set up shop where no one could see us.  We made a sign for Maria’s salon on her chalkboard easel and set up couch cushions as Maria’s work station.  Maria was the four year old hair cutting genius, and I was her three year old client.  Now, since Maria knew what she was doing, she lifted my hair up and cut it really short underneath. 

                My hair looked beautiful…if you asked me.  We knew we had to hide the evidence, so we raided the family filing cabinets full of her dad’s research.  He has a super-secret office that we were not allowed to enter.  We didn’t care, we had to hide the hair!  We hid the hair and sighed because we were in the clear.  No one would ever notice my new do!

                Next up—the dog.  Jordy looked beautiful when Maria was done with him.  But that hair had to go, too.  We sprinted to the deepest, darkest corners of the basement to get rid of the evidence.  Maria’s basement had A LOT of stuff in it, so we found some wonderful hiding places.  We opened boxes and lifted carpet corners, anything we could get our hands on, to hide the hair.  No one would know what had happened if there wasn’t any evidence, right?

                Just as Ms. Margie, Maria’s mom, was wondering what we were up to Stephanie, my younger sister, took her place in the chair.  We didn’t get too far on her hair, but wow was my mom in for a treat!

                As we heard Ms. Margie coming down the stairs I made sure that I sat up super straight against the wall.  Obviously, no one would notice my shorter look if it was hidden by the wall.  Boy were we wrong!  Ms. Margie knew something was up right away.

                She was beyond mad!  And so was my mom.  “Tracy Nicole, you get in the car right now!!”  That’s how I knew my mom was mad; she used my middle name.  She marched me to the salon.  It smelled nice and clean and looked pretty, but I did NOT want to be there.  What was wrong with my hair? It looked perfect!  The nice hair cutting lady saved my “disastrous” hair…barely.  I looked like a little boy!  To save my hair, she had to cut it super short.  Man, oh man, was I mad.

                At three years old I cried over my hair for the first time.  However, it would certainly not end up being the last time tears were shed over a haircut.  As Maria and her family packed to move, they were finding Tracy and Jordy hair everywhere.  Four years later my mom received a present from Maria and her family… a baggy of my hair.

I learned a few valuable lessons that day: don’t let four year old cut your hair, and it’s just hair…it’ll grow back.