"Lenora, you should go get a haircut." The one sentence that would change my life.
**Flashback to 1 week ago**
"Lenora, you should go get a haircut," said my mom. Mulling it over, I thought, well, what harm could a simple haircut be? I've been wanting a shoulder length bob for a long time anyways, now could be my chance. I looked over to my mom and said, "take me to the salon."
Driving over to the salon, I looked at all of the notifications on my phone from all of the wonderful apps that my friends insisted that I install on my phone such as Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, you get the picture. Honestly though, all of the notifications consisted of the same fucking message EVERY SINGLE DAMN TIME and that was: Lenora, you're so pretty, we should really hang out some time, or: Lenora, do you want to come over to my house this Saturday, I'm hosting a party at ..., or the classic: Lenora: r-10 d-yes if I was les h-of course not, ur like my bff. And that last one my friends, is from someone that I didn't even know existed.
Once we reached the hair salon, I entered the store and started looking through the books for good haircuts, or just hot models in general. After a while, my name was called and I sat on one of the twirly chairs that twirl around and go up and down when you push the lever at the side of the chair. As I sat on the chair, a tall, pale, dark-haired lady started talking to me swiftly in an unidentifiable language and she swiftly took the scissors off of the dresser where the mirror in front of me was laying on, turned the chair towards her, and started cutting my long, brown locks. Guess where the scissors were snipping though? That's right, not at the shoulder where it was supposed to be, but near my nose, that's right, my fucking nose.
"What the hell do you fucking think you are doing?" I growled. She was snipping my hair, hair that took me a long time to grow, of course I was fucking mad at her. She just kept talking to me in that unidentifiable language though, and I was getting pretty pissed at this point, but I think I had every right to be pissed, I mean, she was cutting right through my hair! I tried one more time to intimidate her into not cutting my hair, but it was obvious that she liked hearing her voice speak whatever language she was speaking.
"MOM!" I screamed. The lady stopped destroying my hair, and my mom came rushing through the door, looking as if she had just been harassed or something of the like. I pointed at the lady and said, "What is she doing?" I looked from my mom to the lady, and my mom finally spoke up. "Well honey, I decided that since you were going to get an actual haircut and not your usual trim, we might as well donate your hair, but I might have checked the 16-inch box and not the 12-inch box, I am so sorry honey, I'll make this up to you, I promise..."
As my mom kept rambling on about how sorry she was, I was working to hold back my temper towards my mom, but the deed was almost done; the hairstylist had gone back to chopping my hair as if nothing was wrong, and my head felt lighter and lighter with the more snips she made.
Hours later (note the sarcasm), the final snip was heard, and as I looked up the lady looked proudly towards me and she turned the chair around towards the mirror. To say I was horrified would be an understatement.
**End of Flashback**
"LENORA!" shrieked one of my best friends. "Is that you?" I turned around. "What the hell happened to your hair?" Sophia asked. Well, wouldn't you like to know.
Hey guys, this is my first story so I apologize for my terrible writing skills, but I do like to write so it would be great if you could help by writing some comments! So, VOTE, COMMENT, and FOLLOW!:)
Picture: Lenora Moore
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The Haircut
Teen Fiction"Short hair removes obvious femininity and replaces it with style." - Joan Juliet Buck If you were to get one haircut, what would it be? Maybe a shoulder-length cut, or a pixie-cut, but certainly not a mushroom cut, right? Well what happens when Len...
