The first half of my life I had a conflict getting my hair cut. I enjoyed getting it cut, but I’d never know what it would look like after. I’ve always had thin hairs and a lot of them with numerous cowlicks. Everyone wanted to cut my hair where ever we went, but I couldn’t make it look nice at home. I just don’t style it well. And no one believed me when I explained this. They always gave me a style detailed cut, and I’m a wash and go kind of girl.
Then I struck gold half of a lifetime ago: I met Sean. My hair guy. He’s the bomb. He knows where my cowlicks are. He knows how to make my bangs straight. So did my dad, but my dad and I could only do my bangs well; not the rest. So I quit getting it cut. I didn’t have my hairs grow down to my waist because I liked it long. I let it grow because I couldn’t find anyone to cut it without making me look like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals.
I met Sean because I worked with his wife. She is also a treasured friend. I am so blessed by their family. We’ve been friends for more than two decades, and I know my life is richer for having them and their value system in it. Never mind that my hair looks good most of the time (when I remember to get it cut before I lose my gourd and wack my bangs inappropriately).
For me, a hair cut it vital time with a good friend. May we all have friends so good for so long.