Stupid Haircuts Novels & Stories

My mind was spinning with so many possibilities. Mum was smiling. She looked pleased with her new haircut. Too pleased. If she was crying, I would be worried and now she was smiling yet I was still worried. “Yeah. Did it yesterday,” mum said. “Why?” “Do I need a reason to cut my hair?” “Uhm,” I said as a matter of fact, “yes, you do. You loved your hair.” “I didn’t shave my hair,” Mum said. “I just cut it so technically, I still have the hair that I love.”

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.

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.

She smiled taking in the praise and ate. When everyone was done eating, I pulled on the hoodie's cap and smiled at them, with my bald head. "I had to cut my hair because chemotherapy was causing me to have patches on my head. I didn't like it and I would eventually lose all my hair, so I took the bold decision to cut it," I announced. They all looked at me but no one said anything. I didn't know what I wanted to hear but silence was not the reaction I was expecting. I grabbed the hoodie cap and covered my head back. I felt so self-conscious and hurt.

The problem with the front lace wig was it takes forever to set it on your head. Maybe you should cut your hair, My inner voice suggested. I stomped on that thought immediately and took my bag, exiting my apartment locking it behind me. When I was in my late teens, I used to cut my hair once every three months, up to my shoulder, because my hair grew super fast. I found the girls with the pixie cut adorable, so one day, I decided to cut my hair to my chin and it was horrible on me. On top of it, my hair decided to grow slowly after that and that was when I decided to grow my hair. Now the ends of my hair rest till my waist.

Mom was coming out right when i stopped at their door, she almost bumped right into me, when i saw her, my mouth dropped open, She was wearing black ripped jeans, a black shirt with spiked knee high boots, her hair was in a high ponytail, shaking my head i gently pushed her back into the room telling her sit down, she looked confused but sat down anyway, “Mom you look hot as h3ll, but i don't like the high ponytail, you look like your going through something like that,” i took out her ponytail, brushed it so it wasn't tangled, my mom had dark long hair, it was almost down to her a$$. so i decided to cut it, we had an hour left, So why not, i cut it where it was in the middle of her back, i

I whisper to myself, not being able to keep the smile off my face. Quickly, I put on a black thong to match the dress, leaving my breasts bare, knowing the dress has cups of its own, and start to work on my hair, straightening, pulling out knots and trimming out excesses. After a few minutes, my hair still falls down to my ass, and it looks really boring and wimpy, so I take a bold step and cut half of it, leaving it just above my shoulders. I trim it till it's straight and sharp, looking really different, but classy. New hair, new identity.

About a lot of things, starting from his haircut. Tears rush to my eyes, I swipe at them. I love his brown hair as much as he loves my curls, he had no right to cut them off without seeking my opinion. I will never cut my hair knowing how much he enjoys weaving his fingers through them. Stupid me, I am always thinking about how to make him happy and he turns around to shave his head.