Saturday Secrets

I’m a cutter.

I do stupid things. Many, many stupid things. But of all the stupid things I do, my family would say that the stupidest of all is cutting my own hair.

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If it's wrong, I don't want to be right.

The problem is that while *they* tell me to stop, everyone else in the world fawns over how creative I am and what an amazing job I did. They ask me for my stylist’s number!! Do you know the rush of being able to say “It’s me! It’s me! I did it!” No, you don’t. But you probably also don’t know the sinking feeling of realizing you just gave yourself a mullet… again.

Oh yes, there have been failures. Epic failures. The most epic failure of all, even more epic than multiple mullets (pause to let the word “multiple” sink in), was the time that I decided to give myself “pixie bangs” and ended up with a crew cut on my forehead.

Crew. Cut. Bangs.

Crew cut bangs.

:::sigh:::

So what’s a crafty girl to do?

Glue. In. Bangs.

Yep!

Being one who often cut too much, I was getting very familiar with glue-in weave. I was actually pretty pissed that, up until that time, no one had ever told me how easy it was! It was like they were hiding it from me; I would get so many compliments when I used it… But I digress.

Glue in bangs…

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But none of them are hiding a crew cut.

My sister groaned. My mother was pissed. But everywhere I went, people loved my hair! I had quite a lot of fun telling them that my bangs were fake – the looks on their faces!! Really, I enjoyed the humor of my stupidity a bit too much, in retrospect, but at least I had a sense of humor about it, right?

All this is embarassing enough as it is, but it was about to get better. Or worse, depending on how you view it.

So I was at my job, working with children who have autism. Having about thirteen years in the field at that time, I actually preferred to work with children that had severely agressive behaviors because, well, I was really good at it. With one client in particular, though, there was danger of getting my hair pulled straight out of my head. (Can you forsee where I’m going with this?)

[And before we go any further, let me just say that yes, I *genuinely* loved (and still do love) working with children who have autism – especially those with more challenging behaviors, and that not all children on the spectrum have these kinds of behaviors. Regardless, I love, love, LOVE my work!]

I arrived to that particular client’s home, along with my boss. Our session went on as usual, which meant I was on high alert for the dreaded and extremely painful hair grab when I suddenly heard a brief “Look out!” from my boss. As I see my client’s hand reaching for my forehead, I don’t even bother to flinch, block, or move. I know what’s coming…

RRRRRRRRRRRIP!!!

There I was, in front if my boss, in front of my client, in front of my client’s mother with NO BANGS! Just a patch of gluey hair, and a child with “my bangs” in their hand.

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This picture is strangely accurate.

People, let me tell you something. I love each and every one of my clients so dearly, so please understand that when I say nothing really ever shocked this particular client I am not being cruel or making fun. Nothing really *ever* surprised them. But looking down to see my bangs in the palm of their hand?? They were a bit surprised. And that was surprising to me.

My boss’ face went pale.

My client’s mother’s jaw dropped.

And I just freaking laughed harder than I ever have in my entire life.

“They’re fake! They’re fake! I’m ok! I’m ok! See? They glue on!!”

Now, the look on my boss’ face as I pulled the mini bottle of glue out of my purse and proceeded to re-stick my bangs on top of my head like nothing happened? Priceless.

I’d like to say I stopped cutting my hair or that my client stopped pulling hair, but I can’t. I’d like to say I haven’t touched any hairglue or weave since, but I can’t say that either. I can say that my boss couldn’t look at me for quite some time without laughing hysterically, and I can only speculate that this was the catalyst of our beautifully bizarre friendship.

So there you have it, folks – my Saturday Secret. Moral of the story? Stay away from the scissors and the weave because rarely do anyone else’s stories turn out as hilarious as my own. (:

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3 thoughts on “I’m a cutter.

  1. LMAO! Oh thank you so much for this Monday morning giggle! You are so funny! I have never, evah, cut my own hair! My daughter’s? Yes, badly. My sons? Yes, just as badly. I’m terrified of cutting my own! 🙂

  2. Crying. Tears squirting out my eyes, snorting, shrieking with mirth. Oh, how I wish I knew you. You are a breath of fresh air. Love this post SO much for a hundred different reasons. Glad I found you!

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