For the days leading up to “the chop”, I searched through a magazine full of haircuts, obsessing over pixie cuts and showing them off to friends. My mom constantly asked if I was sure about cutting off practically all of my hair, but the decision was set in stone. Finally, the day I had been waiting for had come.
I hopped into my mom’s car after school one Friday and we drove into Cranston. As we came to a stop in the parking lot, I began to question my decision. We hopped out of the car, and the reality of what I was doing hit me, followed with anxiety. My emotions did not matter-I had already made a promise to myself, and there was no turning back now.
I seated myself in the black leather comfy chairs found in the salon. As I waited, I overheard my mom telling the hairdresser, Frank, all about my sudden need for a cut. As Frank cut the final piece of my mom’s shiny, brown hair, I walked up to the hairdresser’s chair, anticipating my “new do”.