Everyone gets bad haircuts. It’s just a fact of life. However, it’s nothing we ever want for our kids. So I walked my daughter out of Walmart Monday with a cut that made me want to cover her head with a bandanna and run through the parking lot before anyone she knows could possibly see her.
I was embarrassed for her. I wanted to cry for her. I wanted to wring that young little girl’s neck who looked at the pixie cut on the wall and said, “Yeah, I can do that.” and then proceeded to hack at my daughter’s hair until she was left looking like a Barbie in Sid’s toy box concentration camp.
So I took her to a friend, who proceeded to hack off more in an effort to actually make it look like a cut. It’s short. I mean, shorter than I would have ever wanted it, but at least now her bangs are straight and not looking like a template for a chevron design.
This morning I’m getting her ready for school, and we washed and blew her hair dry and then I styled it. Spiky in the back and a bit in the front and she just grinned.
“I look like Katy Perry. Or Pink. Mama, I look like a Rock Star!”
And we’re okay. We’re okay…