I went to the beauty shop to get a haircut earlier this week and it caused me to start thinking about the worst haircut I ever had.

I was in the sixth grade and my hair was about shoulder length and I was trying to let my bangs grow out. That hair I was trying to let grow always seemed to be across at least one of my eyes, so I was constantly looking through it.

One night, when apparently my dad must have had a really bad day, he complained to Mom about my hair. “I’m tired of looking at Azalea with that hair hanging across her face so I can’t even see her eyes. Why don’t you take her to get a haircut?”

For some reason or the other, what he said made Mom mad. I don’t have any idea why, unless she thought he was complaining about how she was raising their children. Anyway, she said “I’ll take care of it on Saturday.”

Dad said: “Good. I want to be able to see her face for a change.”

Saturday morning was the time when Mom and I usually went to the town of Ellerbe to do our shopping. Sometimes we went into M.A. Pickett’s store and looked around and then if I had a quarter to spare, I would go into the store across the road and buy candy. At that time, I could buy a bag of candy big enough to hopefully last me until I got back home.

I could get Mary Janes or peanut butter logs for a penny each or a get M&M’s weighed out by the pound. It always tasted so good that it was hard to have any left to share with my brothers. One place we always went to in Ellerbe, though, was the grocery store.

On the Saturday morning after Mom and Dad’s conversation about me getting a haircut, Mom and I took off to Ellerbe to make our usual rounds. I thought she had probably gotten me an appointment to get a haircut at Marjorie’s Beauty Shop where she usually took me. To my surprise, however, she parked in the parking lot at the grocery store and started walking down the street.

I followed along wondering exactly where it was we were going. She opened up the door to a building where I had never been before. I looked at the lettering on the sign and it read “Barber Shop.”

When we got inside, there were two chairs there. Each of the chairs had a man sitting in it and a man beside the chair who was cutting his hair. Mom spoke to everybody and then introduced me to the owners of the barber shop — Ralph and B.A. Cox. Then she told me to sit down in one of the chairs next to where a couple of men were waiting to have their hair cut, too.

B.A. Cox asked Mom if he could help her. She said: “Yes. I want to get my daughter’s hair cut.” I felt like getting up and walking out but I knew I couldn’t do that. You see, I was taught to respect my parents and I could see Mom had already made up her mind that I was going to get a haircut at the barber shop whether I wanted to or not!

When it came my turn to get into B. A. Cox’s barber’s chair, I felt like I was shaking inside. I knew I was not going to be happy with a haircut by a barber instead of a beautician.

Mr. Cox asked Mom “Do you just want me to trim it?”

She said “No. I want you to cut it real short.”

Oh no! I knew I was in trouble now. Mr. Cox cut a little bit off and then asked if that was enough. Mom told him again to cut it real short, so he did what she told him to do.

When he finished cutting my hair, he turned the chair around so I could look at the front and handed me a mirror to look at the back. I knew I didn’t really want to look at all, but I did anyhow. I believe the results were even worse that I had imagined!

I am not blaming Mr. Cox for my bad haircut because he only did what Mom told him to do and he only knew how to cut men’s hair; not 12 year old girls’ hair.

Mom and I went out after she paid for my haircut and walked back down the street. She said something about going into the grocery store, but I asked “Can I just wait in the car?” She really looked at me then and I guess she felt kinda bad about taking me to the barber shop because she got mad with Dad about what he said about my hair.

Anyway, she said “Your hair doesn’t look too bad. It’ll grow back before you know it.” That really didn’t help my feelings at all because I knew I was the one who was going to have to live with a bowl-cut hairdo until it did.

When we got home from town and Dad saw my hair, I thought his eyes were gonna pop right out of his head. He looked at Mom and said “You got it cut a little short, didn’t you?”

Mom replied “You told me you were tired of seeing her hair in her eyes. Well, it’s no longer in her eyes.” That part at least was true, because I didn’t have enough hair left to be in my eyes!

The worst part of getting a really bad haircut was knowing that I had to go to school on Monday and face all my friends. It had been bad enough to go to church on Sunday and have everybody stare at me like they didn’t know who I was.

When I went to school, though, I really got my feelings hurt when I heard a couple of the boys talking about my haircut. One of my so-called friends then told me I looked like a little boy.

It seems funny, but somehow I didn’t even feel like the same person I was before I got that haircut. How we feel about ourselves really affects how we act. If we don’t feel like we look our best, we might not be as outgoing and friendly as we usually are.

I have found that to be true even as an adult. I’ve heard people tell someone they looked pale and then asked them if they felt all right. If someone asked them the same thing later on; before you knew it, that person needed to go home sick!

Whether you are a he-male or a female, I’m sure you have had a really bad hair day, too. Just remember though, like Mom said, “It’ll grow back before you know it!”

Azalea R. Bolton is a resident of Richmond County and a member of the Story Spinners of Laurinburg, Richmond County Historical Society and Richmond County Writers Club.

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Azalea R. Bolton

Storyteller