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The instant the scissors snapped shut, the instant I saw a chunk of my hair fall softly, mournfully, onto the floor below, I knew I was done for. He would now have to go for symmetry, the architectural foundation of any haircut, and any plans I had had for “just a little trim” would soon be lying on the floor of the hair salon.
I closed my eyes and recalled my daughter’s words of warning as I stepped out of the house:
“Don’t do it, Mom. You know Marco. Just wait until someone else is available – he’s gonna ruin your hair, he always does.”
True. Several disastrous occasions came to mind instantly. On one occasion, the night of the 8th. grade dance, I had promised Olivia that Marco would not fail her (as I had, forgetting to make the appointment with her hairdresser of choice)…but he did, and she cried all the way home and refused to talk to me for days after.
“It’s just a trim!” I said, feigning bravado and nonchalance, “What could go wrong?”
Olivia shot me a look that said, “I don’t even have to answer that, do I??!!”
But, what she said was, “I’ll be here for you, Mom, you’re gonna need me.”
When I opened my eyes, Marco had achieved symmetry – all around. This was, as Olivia had so wisely predicted, not a trim but a disaster. I heard the whir of the razor now bringing symmetry to the nape of my neck. And then a satisfied, “Ta-da! Your summer trim -do you love it or what?!”
What was there to say?
As usual, Olivia said it best when I stepped in through the door.
“It’s okay, Mom, it’ll grow back. It’s summer anyway, you don’t have to leave the house if you don’t want to.”