Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
I've always had long, luxurious locks. Rarely taking heat to them, they were in mint condition, not a split end in sight. It felt like silk running through my bony fingers. Sixteen years, countless trims and 30 inches of luscious, golden brown hair later, it happened.
It was an average Thursday until my mother and sister arrived home. My sister's hair, which was once similar to mine in color and length, was now gone. I clamped my hand tightly over my mouth to keep from laughing, but I couldn't. I let out a giggle. My mother scolded me. My sister bolted up the stairs as the tears streamed down her face.
It was a mushroom sort of cut with sparse fringe sitting about two centimeters above her brows. I learned later that she had gum stuck in her hair at school and one of her classmates lent a helping hand, making the situation far worse than it initially was. I found out they just came home from the local barber shop.
That night at the dinner table it was quiet until Papa came home to join us. Once he sat down, he saw her hair and heard the story. The joking started and it didn't stop. For days and days it continued. My sister could never take a joke and she still can't. All week she was devastated by the constant attention we brought to her hair. The Friday after the cut, my sister seemed awfully accepting of the jokes we made. I was confused by this, but at the time, didn’t think much of it.
On Saturday when I woke up, I went into the washroom, washed my hair and began to dry it. When I was done, I moved in front of the small, white, wood trimmed mirror that hung above the sink. That's when I saw it. The right side of my hair was missing. It vanished.
I raced down the stairs still in my night clothes, enraged. They all sat around the table with glasses of juice and plates piled with eggs and bacon. Papa was mad about something. He was yelling. My mother looked calm and ate in silence. I decided not to interrupt. With a huff and a puff, he turned to me. That's when I saw it. He too was sporting a new haircut. It looked just like mine, only opposite. His left side was missing. My sister laughed at us. My mother joined in, all of her hair still intact.
My mother took me to the barber shop the next day and I had my hair cut. It matched my sister's perfectly.
Now 24, my hair has since grown back. I've kept it relatively short. This taught me not only to treat others the way I want to be treated, but to also always keep a set of extensions or a hair piece handy because you never know when you will need extra length or a little volume.