Wednesday, July 11, 2012

The Haircut - Inspired by a true story (guest post by KK)

So it turns out I am not the only Master of the Ink and Paper around the office….well more like Master of the Keyboard and Microsoft Word software…I suppose. Yesterday, while having a “very important” conversation at her office, I found out that one of my amazing girlfriends is a kick ass, very entertaining and talented writer as well (yes as well cause I am cocky enough to describe myself as that too). My dear Kylie, I thought you rocked before, now I might just have to start a fan club. Anyway, she was kind enough to write a guest post on my blog and here it is! I LOVE IT and I think we can all relateJ. Thank you very mucho KK and the rest of you: ENJOY!
Finally headed home from the office in the safety of my car, I reflect on the day. It’s left me heavy-laden and down-trodden. Not even the thought of a glass of chilled Chardonnay is enough to break me from my funk. I continue on, considering my options. Ice cream? It’ll make me fat. A DIY pedi? I can’t reach my toes because I’m too fat from all the ice cream I’ve eaten. No. There’s I can do that is going to make anything better! But then, an idea. Like a small glimmer of hope it floats into my mind’s eye. A nice, long, hot shower. The steam might make me sweat, so I’ll get skinny. And I’m definitely not too fat to fit in the stall (yet). Yes. A hot shower. It won’t judge me. It won’t yell at me. I can be at peace. Giddy with the knowledge of what’s to come, I pull into the garage and make a bee-line to the master bathroom.

I anxiously begin to run the water. It never gets hot fast enough! As I wait impatiently for the water to heat so I can begin my moment of relaxation, I mindlessly pick at the countertop. Glancing into the mirror I notice my bangs have grown past my nose, my usual marker for when they need trimming. Now is as good a time as any, I muse and reach for my scissors. They seem to have been misplaced but, no matter, my manicure scissors will do nicely. It’s just a quick trim, afterall.

I begin my usual process of securing my hair with a ponytail holder and separating my bangs from the pack. Hmmm…they are out of control. Holding my bangs with one hand, like I have seen my hairdresser do, I snip slowly in a downwards motion. I smile smugly, remembering the praise my hairdresser bestowed upon me my last visit, “You didn’t do too bad of a job. They’re not crooked or anything, but that’s why I do bang trims for free.” Pft. Why would I not pay to do something I can do myself for free? I frown at my logic, but bring my focus back to the task at hand. I squint my eyes and peer at myself in the mirror, scissors tapping against my lips, “now, I know how I want it to look, so maybe if I just do like this…” One snip and…perfection. Confidence boosted by my apparently innate ability to cut my own hair, I continue on. Soon, my bangs have more swagger than a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. I smile happily at my work and prepare to get into that shower I have been waiting for!

But wait…I catch something out of the corner of my eye. What is that? Hmmm…a rogue hair. It doesn’t quite look right. I quickly take down my hair and run my fingers through it, trying to blend it into my bang masterpiece. This one hair seems too long. I’ll cut it. Now it doesn’t match the other side. I cut that one, too. It’s kind of poofing out over here. I know my hairdresser thins it out, so I’ll just try that, even though I’m not quite sure how. Slowly, I begin to see more and more hairs that don’t belong. But it’s okay, because I have scissors. And my hairdresser said I’m a natural. As the mirrors begin to steam from the increasingly hot water pouring from my waterfall showerhead, I see a determination, nay a madness creeping into my eyes. My cutting hand begins to shake as I hack away at the helpless strands. I can’t stop and a tear falls from my eye. What am I doing?! I can’t stop! I don’t want to stop! A sadistic smile crosses my lips as I squeal in delight at the adrenaline this obsession is giving me. I shake my head as to clear the insanity. Suddenly, just as soon as it all started, my hands to drop to the counter, my chest heaving in some sort of confusion mixed with euphoria, my hand still curled around the tiny manicure scissors. In an instant, I realize what I have done.

I examine the scissors and drop them as if they were a ball of rock from hell itself. They land with a sickening thud in the porcelain sink. And then I see it. The result of my madness. The carnage is sickening and I have to cover my mouth to keep from vomiting. Oh dear, Lord. What have I done? What have I done?! I glance around quickly to see if anyone has witnessed this massacre. No one is there. If I just clean it up, no one will know. I grab a plastic bag and begin to shovel the remains into the opening. I hurry downstairs and quickly toss the evidence into the big plastic WM bin. I stumble back to the bathroom and into the shower, blinded by the agony of what I have just done. The hot water feels like blades of judgment against my bare flesh. I hold myself as I rock back and forth, whimpering, afraid and alone. What if someone finds out? Someone is bound to notice what I’ve done. I cry out in anguish. And then…a small but firm voice speaks to me in my darkness, “We’ll just cover it up.”

My head jerks up. “What? Who was that?” I ask myself as I look around. “We’ll just cover it up,” I hear again. Willing to explore any and every option I have I timidly reply, “How?” I hear a snicker in response, “With mousse and hairspray, of course. No one will ever know.” My lips curl into a frightening grin. “Yes, yes,” I say out loud, “no one will ever know.”

I quickly turn off the water, empowered by this course I am taking, well aware that I cannot turn back now. I step out of the shower and clear the fog from the mirrors. The person I see staring back at me is unrecognizable. My actions this night have changed me. My face hardened with resolve, I reach into my drawer and begin pulling out the equipment that will save me. A broken chuckle escapes my mouth as I begin to understand what I am about to do, what I need to do. No turning back now. I run the first glob of mousse through my hair and turn on the blow dryer.

The hum of the blow dryer is comforting. I never want to leave this place. I never want to go back to what I was before. But I know I must. I turn of the dryer and slowly lift my head. As I begin to examine my work, my eyes become wild with the realization that I’ve done it. I hear a haunting laugh and wonder where it’s coming from. Only, it’s coming from me, “I did it. No one will ever know. They’ll never know.” A cruel smile of triumph crosses my lips. I hear a shadow of a voice, “They’ll find out. They’ll know what you’ve done.” I scoff as I shut the medicine cabinet door with a decided thud and shake my head. Glancing into the mirror I reply, “No. No they won’t.”

As I laugh in delight I move closer to the mirror to examine my work. Perfection. Utter perfection. My brows are a bit overgrown, but other than that. It’s amazing. I mean, that one is kind of sticking out. Now they’re really bothering me. Especially that one that’s making it look like I have a uni-brow. Maybe if I just get that one…

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