Stupid Haircuts Novels & Stories

I faced the main view of the University and my eyes squinted at the towering old arc that bore the words "Polaris University." I was wearing a simple t-shirt, pants, and rubber shoes, which helped ease my nerves with their comfortable feel. I let my hair loose, which I only decided to cut last week. When I left the hospital, it was very long, thick, and black, and it was starting to weigh me down, so I decided to have it cut. I was planning to have a short haircut as a new beginning for my journey outside the hospital, but my aunt objected. She couldn't bear to see my beautiful hair go to waste. I had no choice but to agree when she brought a hairstylist to our house. She left it up to me to

I grabbed a fresh set of clothes and walked inside the bathroom to shower, untangle my hair, and think about my next step today. I undressed, turned on the shower, and grabbed scissors from the drawer. I grabbed my long, curly red curls and sighed deeply before cutting them at shoulder level. My eyes focused on the blades unevenly cutting through the thick mop that reminded me of my mother every time. I bit my lip not to cry as I destroyed something she was so proud of.

All his life he had never been that lucky. "Stupid...stupid...stupid!" He banged his fist a few times onto his desk. Then made the mistake of banging the last one a bit too strong that he actually hurt himself against the edge of his desk. "So fucking stupid." He cursed lowly when he saw the cut and blood tracing down to his fingers.

Emma. Cutting my hair wasn’t the same as losing an arm or a leg, but cutting it felt like I was losing an important part of my body. I knew it would grow back, that if I were lucky enough to live another year, it would be long again, just as beautiful as it was now. But seeing the scissors cutting through my locks and, right after, the clippers running over my scalp made me shed tears.

The cut was decent and cute, but she was no professional. “What do you think?” Kan looked down at Mr Grigor, but the man was already shaking his head even before he finished speaking. “I already think she would make a pyre with our bodies as it is.” The man grimaced, and Kan began to laugh. Then he shook his head at the barber. “No haircut for you then, buddy.” He looked down at Oliver, who babbled back. Kan got a haircut too, although he had a professional who came to the house weekly to do the job.

It was around 2 in the morning when I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, scissors in hand and a few strands of hair on my feet, there was no turning back. "What are you trying to do? You're going to get hurt." When Emma came in I don't know, but she held the scissors and took them out of my hand. "I thought: if my life has changed, my personality has to change too." "And you think cutting your hair will do that? Your personality will change?" And isn't it obvious? "Of course, all my problems are in my hair, and if I cut my hair, my problems will disappear, or at least they will pretend to disappear."

I couldn't imagine my mate being from this town, as most of the people my age ignored me completely. I combed through my light brown hair, enjoying how much easier it was. A month ago I decided to chop my waist-length hair off, growing tired of how it constantly got in the way. My Mom was supportive and did the deed for me. My hair was no longer getting caught on everything, constantly slipping in my face.

"Using vulgar words again! What's with the street manners?" I mocked him and even stuck my tongue out. I pushed in front of him a tupperware with only rice and calderita. "Eat that. Don't worry. It's not poisonous," I then rolled my eyeballs. He looked at me badly. "Why did you cut your hair? You look ugly." "They started falling off so I cut them off. I'm just waiting for me to go bald," I answered indifferently and took a bite of food.

The curls are perfect. Some called me 'Nazarene' and sometimes they fooled me as if my hair was pancit canton. Well, I don't care because I'm proud to have such beautiful hair. In case I don't want to get a shoulder-length haircut, it doesn't matter to me. I tried to get a haircut before when I was in 7th grade and I was very sorry because I looked like a Peppa pig. So I don't want to. Just cut everything not my hair.

The hairdresser asked. Hannah’s eyes widened. She doesn’t want to speak about the incident that led to her short hair. When she arrived at Clarise’s home they assumed that she cut her own hair because she was sad about the divorce, and she did not correct them. She doesn’t want them to know what the Millers did to her. She doesn't want them to know how stupid she is, because in their group she’s supposed to be the smart one — at least academically. She smiled faintly, "I did. I tried those D.I.Y tutorials and failed miserably," she explained.