My Haircut from Hell

There was a time in my life when I sported the vilest haircut in the entire cosmos. It was inflicted upon me by my very own Grandpa at the tender age of 11.

At the time I had my first major crush. His name was Michael Davidson. He played basketball, he was popular, and sometimes he offered me one of his crisps.  It was true love. Michael just didn’t realise it yet. I also loved Zac from Hanson. And Prince William. But I diverge.

In my family, going to the barber was a biannual event. My brothers always got a number 2. If they were lucky Mum let them get a lightning bolt shaved above one ear (#gangsta). I would always go last and I would always get a trim. A blunt trim. All the Disney princesses had long hair. So did I.

Then, once we were all piled in the car Mum would complain about the price of my cut.

“All he has to do is cut straight across the bottom and straight across the fringe. I could do that myself. And it would be free.”

As it happens, Grandpa overheard her whingeing. And, being the sweet and lovely and incredibly well-meaning man that he is, he offered to help.

“You know, I used to cut all the lads hair when I was in the army,” he boasted.

Fast forward six months and there I was, sitting on a stool in the middle of Grandpa’s backyard. He stood behind me with his comb, a pair of nail scissors, and for some reason, a shaving kit.

Now, at that stage I was in the process of growing out my fringe, so the front sections of my hair were slightly shorter than the rest. Apparently Grandpa didn’t like this. This is what he did:

Artist’s impression:

Haircut from Hell

I’ll never forget my mum’s reaction. She was late picking me up and when she finally did arrive, she herded me out at great speed. Then on the way home, she pulled the car over and slowly ran her fingers through my hair. I hadn’t been hugely upset up to that point. But then she whispered “I’m sorry honey,” and took me to McDonald’s for dinner. The boys didn’t get McDonald’s. Just me. That’s when I realised just how bad it was.

I got home and cried. I truly did look ridiculous. Michael Davidson would never even look at me.

A few months later my aunt decided to pamper me by taking me to her very expensive and highly acclaimed hairdresser. He inspected me from afar before approaching me and inquiring as to who my previous hairdresser was. I said my Grandpa. He slowly blinked and instructed me to never, ever let that man cut my hair again.

Thankfully my hair did grow back and my emotional wounds healed. But still, it was a heavy burden to bear for a little 11 year old girl to endure the worst haircut in the history of forever at the time of her very first crush.

I never did end up going out with Michael Davidson.

What was YOUR worst haircut?


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