Back when I was in ninth grade, I had really long hair. One day, out of nowhere, my mom decided to take me to a barbershop. Without any warning, she instructed the barber to cut my hair short—really short, like a boy’s cut. The barber, a bit hesitant, asked, “Do you mean a bob?” “No,” my mom replied firmly, “cut it above her ears.”
As the barber trimmed away, my mom kept insisting it be cut shorter, while I sat there crying. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the shop on us. The barber finally asked, “Is that enough, ma’am?” My mom, getting up from her chair, responded, “No, cut mine the same way.”
It turned out, my mom had been preparing us for a Halloween party where she wanted both of us to show up with matching bowl cuts. At the party, we got a lot of compliments on how much effort we put into our costumes, and we ended up winning the “Best Costume” award. In the end, I guess it was worth it—but I can’t help but miss my mom dearly now.
