Shampoo and Scissors

Today is hair wash day. Anyone with long or thick hair knows how time consuming and exhausting this can be. I have been blessed with both long and thick hair. I haven’t always been thankful for my ability to snap hair ties with my ponytail, but as I grow older, I realize how much other people desire to have the hair that I have taken for granted. But even though I am thankful, nobody has an hour to wash their hair on a Thursday.
My softball practice had been cancelled and I had some time on my hands. I could spend this time washing my hair, but then I would have to do it again in just a few days. Fortunately for me, the solution was simple. So I got my purse and set out on a walk. I walked up and down the avenue, stopping in each salon I came across, asking if anyone had time for a cut that day. I knew that if I went home without a cut that day, I would get too scared to try again another day. Around the fourth or fifth salon, a stylist said the wait for a haircut would be just 10 minutes. I waited patiently for my new friend, Dominique, to get to work on my hair.
I finally sat down in the chair and took out the three ties I was using to hold my bun together. As Dominique brushed my tired hair, she asked me what kind of haircut I was looking for. I explained to her that I want it around my shoulders with short layers, still long enough to pull up into a clip. She measured the hair to be cut and told me it would be about 10 inches off. This is when I mentioned that I would like to donate my hair if it was long enough. Many hair donation agencies take anything over 8 inches, as long as it hasn’t been dyed. So we tied my hair in sections and began chopping.
Within seconds, I was holding what felt like pounds of my own hair in my hands. I have been able to donate my hair three times in my life now, and each time, it feels weird to hold my own ponytail detached from my head. Feeling the blunt cut from the scissors, I began to feel nervous, I hadn’t had a haircut in over a year and this was way shorter than it had been in a while. As soon as Dominique noticed my nervousness, she spoke loudly from the other side of the studio, where she was packing up my hair to mail. “This is such a great thing you’re doing! I know tons of people who would love to have this hair”.
I eased into the chair and let her wash the short hairs left on my head. Then, Dominique got to work shaping the hair, making sure it was even, and adding some layers. With each snip of the scissors I knew my hair was getting even shorter, but I tried to relax and trust the process.
As I looked up into the mirror, my hair was starting to curl back into her natural form and the cut was almost done. I lifted my right hand and felt my hair. It felt soft and healthy. I shook it out and admired the layering work done just moments before. It was all done! I stood up and paid for the service. Immediately leaving the salon, I called my mom. Walking back to my house, I showed her my new style over Facetime and began to love the new simplicity of this simple endeavor.