A dedication to the lady with no name
My hesitation of getting my hair cut stemmed from the anxiety of trying something new. However, with trying a new hairstyle, I found that I have opened my eyes to a new part of me.
By the time the faithful bells had rung through Bonita Vista High’s (BVH) campus, I was fighting to keep my eyes open. Like clockwork, I walked through the busy halls and, step-by-step, reached closer to freedom—well for the weekend, at least.
Just like the week before, I sat in my mom’s car and listened to the hum of the engine while I fought to keep from dozing off. Person-by-person, my mom, sister and I reflected and debriefed on the day’s events; we even bonded over some music. It was barely 3:45 p.m.
After catching a bite, my family and I set off on one last trip to pick up my grandpa—Tata—for the weekend; it had been weeks since we spent a few days with him.
On the 30-minute car ride back to my house, a peaceful silence filled the car. Yet, in the backseat of the car, I looked anxiously at the time. I knew that from the time I got to my house and to the minute I fell asleep, I’d be spending my time doing assignments. Just another tedious day filled with menial work, I thought.
Yet, instead of continuing straight onto the road that led home, the car went off route and led my family and me on a different path; directly to the Rancho San Diego Shopping Mall.
‘I’ll be taking Tata to the Italian restaurant. Why don’t you and your sister walk around until we finish,’ my mom explained as she stepped out of the car.
I looked every which way, eager to get on with the shopping. I took the credit card my mom held in her hand, and in a flash my sister and I were on our way to shop. Now, I had lost track of the time.
Through the scurry of entering and exiting shops and boutiques, I nearly missed the sign labeled as Supercuts, however the large red words screamed for my attention. I had waited for weeks to get my hair trimmed and with my mom’s credit card in hand, I made my way into the salon.
Immediately, I was greeted by an enthusiastic employee, ‘I’ll be with you in just a minute!’, she said.
With her attention on me now, I explained the basic trim I desired. Once I was actually seated in the daunting stool, I asked myself, Am I really doing this? I had an easy conversation with the stylist and eventually shared with her my wish to style my hair differently.
With the same enthusiasm as I entered the shop, she encouraged the idea and eventually persuaded me to get the trending haircut I’d seen everyone wearing—curtain bangs. In the eyes of another, it wasn’t really a drastic change, but to me it was an anxiety-induced experience. I must have stopped her at least 20 times before finally letting her go on with the cut.
Snip, snip.
The familiar sound of the scissors cutting my hair made me imagine an uneven and, in simple terms, ugly look. I feared that my stylist had misunderstood what I wanted or messed up the haircut. I even saw myself walking into school embarrassed of the haircut I had desired.
On the contrary, I was surprised to see myself staring back through the mirror with an astonishing haircut in tow. The anxieties I felt a few minutes ago seemed irrelevant as I admired the new person I had become.
After thanking my stylist and paying for the trim, my sister struggled to keep up as I ran excitedly to my mom to show off the new look. Easy to say, I was relieved when she complimented the new me.
In retrospect, I would have never agreed to try the new hairstyle if it weren’t for the hairstylist whose name I did not catch. Thanks to her, I opened my eyes to the idea that trying new things doesn’t have to be a fearful experience. Sure, sometimes things don’t always go as expected. However, there are also good surprises that come out of the unexpected.
Howdy! Currently, I am a senior at Bonita Vista High and finishing my fourth year on the Crusader staff. Now, I am co-Editor in Chief of the Crusader,...
