When I was a teenager, I had long beautiful hair. I had worn it back for years, but I realized at some point that it looked pretty down, and so I started to wear it this way. I dyed it a subtle red color. Right around this time, my stepmother decided it was time for me to cut it off. She told me to go and get it cut short. I obediently went.
The stylist at the crappy Redmond salon was shocked that I wanted my hair cut that short. She was afraid to do it, but I assured her that was what I wanted.
Afterwards I went home, hair short, feeling very ugly. Stepmother’s mission accomplished.
Hair, 2008
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