Haircuts and other disappointments ✂️💈💇🏻

I have been lost these days, partly because of the hype of the carnival holidays (By the way, I didn't go anywhere) and many other tasks that I will write furthermore. Letting clear this,  I'm going to write about haircuts and the peculiarity obstination of worsening my relationship with hairstylists.

Since I remember, I had always hated the days when my parents brought me to the stylist; I only wished to leave that noisy and messy places. The stylists, mostly mid-age women, frequently cut my hair with a barber machine, making my hair so tiny that I remember seeing my scalp.

My parents attempted to prove different hairstylists and haircuts; even my mom tested her abilities with the barber machine and scissors with me, with deplorable results. Always that my hair was cut, I felt insecure until it grew again.

When I reached adolescence, I could finally decide what style I wanted to follow. My hair was constantly a problem in high school; teachers and inspectors were against certain hairstyles more than others, but it didn't matter during those times.

I revealed against the authorities and let my hair grow until it reached the mane. My parents approved of my style, and my friends didn't seem to matter, but I gained some problems during these days. But somehow, always when I decided to cut it, I had the same problem with the hairstylist; they always cut my hair soo much.

During the following years, I proved different styles, and I even shaved my head completely when I finished high school. On one occasion, I decided to dye my hair, it was awful, and as a result, I almost lost all my hair due to the chemicals.

Nowadays, I am thinking about growing my hair like the good old days, when it was a symbol of my youth. But until I stay at work, I have to "give" a good impression, especially with my image. Until then, I must follow the same awkward decision to pay a stylist to play with my hair.

~S.