AussomeHair Short Story Entry: "Trich"

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Trich

"Stop it!" Mom ordered. She was driving me to the hairdresser.

I yanked my hand away from my head. I fiddled with my jeans for a few minutes, but then I couldn't resist the urge any longer; I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, and snapped it in half.

"Cal! If you don't quit doing that, you won't have any hair left at all!"

I sat on my hands for the rest of the drive. I kept my tongue between my teeth, and bit down hard every time I felt the urge again.

"We're here," Mom announced. I opened the door and followed her into the building.

"So, what can I do for you today?" a hairdresser—Helen—asked as I sat down in a chair.

I shrugged. "Even it out, I guess."

"Hmm..." Helen mumbled, measuring the two sides. I tapped my feet together as I waited for her to ask why there was a five-inch difference in length. "How did—"

"Trichotillomania," I interrupted.

"Sorry?"

"Hair-pulling disorder."

"Okay... so, what do you want, exactly?"

"Shave it," somebody said. I turned around to see a bald woman smiling at me sympathetically.

"Excuse me?" Mom said.

"Shave it," the lady repeated. "That's how I deal with my trich."

I stared at her, completely shocked. I knew I wasn't the only one with this condition, but I'd never actually met someone else like me.

I watched as the woman walked out of the parlour. In a moment of inspiration, I got up and took a pair of scissors from the shelf by the mirror. I grabbed all of my hair in my fist, and without looking, I cut it.

Mom gasped. "Cal!"

I ignored her as I gaped at my reflection. For once in my life, my hair was not two different lengths. The edges weren't perfect, obviously, but I was more satisfied with this image of myself than I had ever been. I reached out to twirl a strand, but I realized that it wasn't long enough for me to pull out.

"Let me just tidy that up for you," Helen said.

As she touched up the do, I smiled. Instead of ashamed of my hair, I was finally proud.


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