The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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Heading into adulthood, it is funny to remember moments from my childhood which, at the time, felt very disastrous.  I now realize that getting a bad hair cut is never something to really cry over and that it is probably the last thing I worry about being here today and gone tomorrow.

  

It was the summer of my ninth birthday and at high noon the
heat was blistering. My days were spent chasing butterflies and savoring the
taste of honeysuckles which grew wild in our neighborhood woods. I would ride
my bike up and down the block sidesaddle like a deranged
Queen of England, balancing carefully while mocking a demonstration of the
proper way to sip tea. However, no day was better spent than taking in the sun
in my neighborhood friend's pool.

Two weeks prior I had gotten my
hair done at a salon cleverly named Silver Scissors. They were popular with
little girls like me for something called twisties. A silly fad of getting
one's front half of their hair twisted like cornrows and styled with cool neon
rubber bands. Then when the time came to have them taken out, I was in the
shock of my life when no amount of conditioner could rescue or, for that
matter, untangle the mess that was left behind. All the chlorine from days
passed in my friend’s pool had sucked the life out of my follicles like a
parasite, leaving me in a nightmarish daze as I contemplated the state of my
hair.

Within an hour of taking the twisties out, I was
sitting in a salon chair, not named Silver Scissors, trying to compose myself.
The hairstylist tried her best to comfort me, but the situation continued to
spiral out of control as my locks were chopped off from the middle of my back
to just above my earlobes. I was sure to save the waterworks for the car ride
home because I hated to embarrass myself in public and I had not realized until
then how attached I had become to my hair. 
Of course in time it grew right back and I learned that it was and will
never be worth getting upset over something so superficial ever again.    

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

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July 2002
New Jersey

Heading into adulthood, it is funny to remember moments from my childhood which, at the time, felt very disastrous. I now realize that getting a bad hair cut is never something to really cry over and that it is probably the last thing I worry about being here today and gone tomorrow.

Tags: haircut, summer
Decade: 2000s
Rating:
Recorded by Holland Messina on January 5, 2014
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