I took a deep breath and opened the door of the salon.
I loved my hair dearly, but I wasn’t ready to trust it with anyone else. My hair was the one part of myself that I liked. It was what gave me the fragile splinter of confidence that I had.
“It’s just a trim.” I reminded myself as I approached the reception desk. “It’s just hair it grows back.” I echoed back my Mom’s words in my mind.
“Hi, I’m here for Stanley.” I told the receptionist, a tall woman with bubblegum pink hair. Honestly, I thought that her hair was a bit unprofessional for a receptionist.
“This is a salon I guess. It’s normal.”
“What’s your name, honey?” Bubblegum Hair asked.
“Maria, Maria Dasontos.”
“Okay, Stanley will be with you shortly.” She assured, pointing me towards the seating area a few feet away from the desk I stood at. Nodding I turned to find a seat.
“It. Is. Just. A. Trim.” I firmly reminded myself, out loud this time. “Hair. Will. Grow. Back.”
Wistfully I ran my fingers through my long locks as I sat down in one of the green covered chairs in the corner of the room.
My hair was a shimmery blonde – white, almost silver.
But it wasn’t an old silver-white kind of thing.
It was silver-white in a pretty way…or at least that was what I always thought of it. It was an utterly unique colour that set me apart from most. The type of colour that are often in hair magazines and on those Pantene commercials.
I wouldn’t say I was beautiful…but my hair certainly was.
It set me apart and I liked that.
I liked that because the rest of me was blatantly average. Average height, and weight, just average. As a sixteen year old girl I was basically a disgrace to womanhood. My face was an odd shape, somewhat androgynous. And my eyes were a deep, yet boring brown that made my skin look even paler.
So very boring.
But my hair?
It was the most wonderful part of my appearance. It made me unique. And it made me feel pretty. Should I not have had my hair I don’t know what I would have done.
“Maria?” A voice glared into my thoughts startling me.
“Yes, that’s me.” I said standing up.
“Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Stanley.” The man approached his dark hair streaked with grey. He was tall, I noticed, with a nice smile. He reached to shake my hand. “Welcome. Follow me please.” Nodding uncomfortably I followed him into the back. He seated me in a large chair with faux leather cushions, throwing on the plastic “sheet” cape over me to protect my clothes. “Whatcha here for honey? Cut?”
“Yes.” I hesitated before continuing onwards, “but only a trim. I like my hair.”
“Oh, sure you do honey. It’s gorgeous.” Stanley agreed stroking through its length with one hand as he reached for a hairbrush with the other. “Don’t worry honey. I’ve got you.”
He washed and blow dried my hair first, which helped me to relax.
‘Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,‘ I thought; but the overwhelming feeling of doubt was still gnawing away at the pit of my stomach.
I closed my eyes as he began to cut. “Maria, I need you to stop hunching.” Stanley commented as my shoulders touched my ears. “Why? I asked timidly as I turned to look at him.
“Because it can cause –“ Stanley began but stopped as soon as my eyes met his and we both heard the horrifying “click” of the scissors. Something about my head felt lighter. My eyes widened and so did Stanley’s. “Don’t freak out!” He said.
A/N: Hey everyone! Just thought I’d pop in at the end here and say hi! – This is a story/scene I wrote for my “Fiction” Class last semester. It was fun to write so I thought I would share it with you as well. Let me know what you think of it! Also, please don’t be deceived (or angry) by how Maria is downplaying her appearance, I really tried to depict nervousness and insecurity.
Thanks for reading!