Hairy Mistakes

When I was six, someone gave me a Barbie Doll. I remember taking her in the back yard and cutting her hair. And I remember that I couldn't get it right. Her hair never looked as beautiful as I felt the scissors could make it and before I knew it, I had clipped away all her beautiful shiny curls. What was left was a stumpy mess of synthetic strands.

Twenty-three years later, I am no better. I thought I was better, until I tried to cut Noelle's hair. First of all, I don't know how straight hair behaves, so I didn't know how to cut it. Secondly, she wouldn't sit still. By the time I was done Noelle's silky straight hair was a cockeyed tussle of bangs.

I wish I had never touched it! I was immediately remorseful, just as I had been over my Barbie's hair. I think I even remember asking my mom how I could get my Barbie's hair back.

At any rate, I've vowed never to pick up the scissors again. I've learned my lesson. But that doesn't mean I don't get reminders of my mistake.

"What did you do to her hair?" Dwayne bellowed when he saw her. "That's the worst hair cut in the world!"

My sister said very politely and sweetly, "Christin, please don't cut Noelle's hair again until the wedding."

And then finally, yesterday.

I was out on a walk with Noelle. We stopped to talk to our neighbor Mike, an elderly retired gentleman. "Hello Noelle!" he said bending toward the stroller smiling. "How are you today? Oh Lord, we need to get you to the hairdressers."