The Dreaded Haircut
Natalie Wong

As brown ringlets of hair fall to the ground, I quench my eyes closed, I try to ignore that those ringlets are in fact, mine. Just knowing there are scissors close to my neck and ears is enough to make me clench my teeth a little bit harder and close my eyes a little bit tighter. Every time I hear the metal slice another piece of hair off, I cringe. Uh oh. She must have done something wrong, I know it, I just know it. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes to check, so I just jump to conclusions and worry and clench my glasses  I hold in my hands tighter and tighter, because my mind won’t stop thinking about it for another 20 minutes. What if it’s all gone? What if she cut it all off? Maybe she messed up! What if she didn’t do what I asked her to do? What if -- my thoughts are interrupted by a voice. "Done!" the hair dresser says. I slowly open one eye at a time. I look in the mirror but all I see is a blur. I suddenly remember the glasses in my hands I put them on and examine my new hair. Not bad, not bad at all. A success, although I went through all that worrying and tension, I have gotten through yet another dreaded hair cut.