Today I thought I would share a story with my dear lovely mother! One faithful Sunday in 1995 I played with my favorite toys as I always did on the weekends. As a child, I had a mixture of not only all of the popular toys in the ’90s. I loved fire trucks, the green power ranger, and barbies! My favorite Barbie was the cut and style Barbie! This was a magical barbie whose hair you could cut and re-attach using her hair extension. After a full day of cutting, I decided I wanted to be like barbie and took her mini scissors to my hair. I didn’t have her extensions so using my resources I used a barrette and re-attached my own hair. I thought everything was gold! I had a new hairdo and when I was done my hair was miraculously back like Barbies. The following Monday morning my mother woke me up early to style my hair for school. I sat at the dining room table on a high stack of phone books while my mom began to brush my hair.
*BRUSH BRUSH BRUSH* 2 seconds would pass then 4 followed by 6. Suddenly each brushstroke began to be slower than the last until it stopped. The brush was replaced by her scurrying hand that swept across the back of my head. It was unlike my mother to abruptly stop doing my hair even though she hated doing hair. My mother couldn’t style hair to save her life. Anything she could have learned about hair her youth went out the window the moment she decided she hatted dolls. On many occasions, my father was my hairstylist. My dad could braid the cleanest braid in my hair compared to my mother. But this is Monday we're talking about! Dad left for work at 4:00 am along with my hopes for a miraculous hairstyle. After 10 minutes of silence, my mother began to speak.
Mom: “Did you cut your hair?”
5-year-old Britt: “No”
Mom: “Yes you did! These are cut marks what did you do?”
5-year-old Britt “I cut it yesterday but it grew back”
Mom: “No it didn’t! you just clipped cut hair back in your hair with a barrette ”
Fast forward 31 years later
Mom: " I knew you cut your hair I knew it! When I began to brush your hairpieces of it started to come out. My heart began to sink with each brush. Each time I brushed your hair more hair would come out. I thought to myself oh my gosh I left the kiddie relaxer in her hair too long. As I continued to brush I realized there was a straight cut in the back of your head with a barrette."
31-year-old Britt: "Technically it was all your fault. You gave a kid a barbie that tricked kids into believing their hair would magically grow back. In my defense, I didn’t think I cut my hair. I thought it magically was re-attached like the Barbies."
As I continued to talk suddenly I felt my Spidey senses tingling. Mary otherwise known as my mother was giving me a death glare. You know the glare, the one in the photo above if you need a point of reference. Long story short I learned never to play with scissors in my hair and still haven’t learned how to shut my mouth in the face of danger. Freedom of speech might be free but there are consequences with the freedom of whats said. But hey at least I got to say what I wanted. Some things never change even with age.