The Long and Short of It

Wednesday, May 18th - Olivia holds 13 1/2 inches of pigtails.

First Communion on April 30th. I loved her long curls.

This photo was taken today, May 17th, after school. I undid two long braids and tried to smooth things a bit.

The grandparents for whom this blog was started will recall that my first entry described Evelyn cutting off the hair of a little friend who had been growing her hair to donate to Locks of Love. This cool organization makes wigs for children who are bald. Olivia decided many months ago that she really wanted to give her hair to a child who needed some. This was hard for me to swallow, because I've always had long hair. Plus, I may be Olivia's mother, but her hair is more than just a little special. It is pretty amazing. I told her she had to wait until after First Communion before she could donate her hair, and she's been patiently waiting ever since Robbie and I gave her the go ahead.

The days leading up to today's hair donation are a story all their own. I finally got Olivia an appointment this afternoon at an upscale and very reputable salon near our home. Minutes after getting worked into their cancellation list, I spoke with a friend whose daughters have donated their hair. My friend explained that a children's salon in the area provides complimentary haircuts for girls cutting ten or more inches off for Locks of Love on Tuesdays. Low and behold, today is Tuesday. Some of you know that my husband is very particular about the girls' hair. When I told him the good news about how I could cancel the pricey salon haircut for the Sugar and Spice one, he sounded concerned. He encouraged me to just take Olivia to the place where the stylists likely had the most training and pay the money this one time. Daddy spoke. We listened.

Evelyn went with us, and she said, "Does that guy have a mohawk?" The answer was yes. The hair stylist was nice. The lady at the front told us he had experience cutting for Locks of Love, and she said he was an amazing stylist. The girl who scheduled Olivia said the man cuts her hair, along with her whole family. "I'm all about (his name)!!! He's incredible." I felt good about all that I heard. We discussed the plan. Olivia had to donate at least ten inches. If you look at the photos, then you'll see that she had plenty. Her hair stretched to the waistband of the skirt she wore, and we were really excited. Truth be told, I was so nervous that I felt a little off. I got tears in my eyes as we waited for Olivia's turn, and another stylist assured me that Olivia's hair was so long that ten inches wouldn't seem like anything. She said, "It will still look long." Once she was in the chair, the stylist and I discussed the plan. We agreed that a bob would be a good look for the final cut. Olivia said she wanted twelve inches off, and I firmly said, "No, twelve will make it too short. She only needs to donate ten. MAYBE eleven. I don't want her hair to stop at her ears." Famous last words.

He put her hair into two low pigtails. I asked him if he was going to measure, and he said he would. I think he "measured" with a comb that had a length he knew. He started sawing away at her thick, golden hair, and I had to bury my face into the back of Evelyn's head. My heart raced. When he handed me the first clump of hair, I felt kind of sick. After he handed me the second one, and I saw how short the hair at the very back of her neck was, I went into internal panic mode with self talk. I told myself that he was good. He knew how to take what looked like a mistake and turn it into a styled hairdo. Honestly, her hair was a horrible mess at the back. It was 50 different lengths, and some of them were horrendously short. Nothing fell anywhere near her shoulder. "What just happened?" I asked myself. I told him what we wanted. What did he do? Why in the hell are some of the pieces so short?!

He shampooed her hair, then went to work with the scissors. He cut. He cut some more. Evelyn whispered to me, "Her hair looks like a boy's. This guy does NOT know what he's doing. I'm scared for Olivia." I kept trusting. I waited. Then I started fuming. Honest to goodness, I started playing over and over the words in my mind, "If you cut her hair ANY SHORTER I am going to hurt you with those SCISSORS!!!!!" He could clearly cut hair and give it a good shape (thank God), but he had messed up with the initial cut of the length. When we got home I measured that he cut 13 1/2 inches! I was fuming as he cut, and I kept casting angry looks at the stylists around us. "Do you see what he's done?!" my eyes cried. Pretty soon he finished. His back had been to me throughout the cut. He said, "Well, Mom. What do you think?" I looked him square in the eye, then I turned to my precious daughter. "YOU are gorgeous." Then I turned back to him, "But THAT is NOT a bob!!" He basically then asked me to define a bob for him. I put my hand to the base of my neck and moved it all the way around. "A BOB is like this! It isn't cut up to her ears." He calmly explained that her hair couldn't have been left that long if he had to cut off ten inches. WHAT-EVER!! I couldn't fix it. He knew I was not pleased. I didn't want Olivia to think that she didn't look perfectly fine, so I just said, "Okay," took the hands of my girls, turned away from him, and walked to the checkout. The smiling lady waiting to take my payment did not receive a smile from me. I stated our name. He followed us, and he told her that Olivia's hair did not turn out the way I wanted, so there would be no charge. I thought that was good of him, because I believe he knew as soon as he cut that first pigtail that he had gone too short. He had to just carry on and try to pull off a save. To his credit, he gave Olivia a very, very cute super short haircut. We just didn't go there for a super short haircut. We went there to make the life of a little child suffering from baldness a tad bit better, and we hoped to leave with shorter hair that was simple and cute. He also styled Olivia's hair and blew it dry with a big round brush. That got me all worked up too, because I told him I have four kids and needed Olivia to have a wash and go cut for her naturally curly hair. I knew her short hair would look even shorter once it dried curly. I was so mad that I was about to cry. I didn't trust myself to speak reasonably, and plenty of profanities were running through my head. I took the hands of my girls and left without another word once our bill was dismissed. Evelyn went off once we were outside about how much of Olivia's hair he had cut off. I told Olivia that she is beautiful and looks super cute. I just explained that I thought he didn't listen to me and cut her hair way shorter than we discussed. Should I have gone to the salon with my own measuring tape? A friend who is a patron of the salon gave us the suggestion in the first place, and I felt like I should have been in good hands.

I dreaded the drive home. Robbie hasn't been totally thrilled about Locks of Love. We are obviously proud of our young child for being so big hearted and empathetic. Olivia is amazing. Henry stopped dead in his tracks in the garage when he saw Olivia, and he said, "Vivia! Why did you get your hair cut like a boy?" He looked nervous. The baby was uneasy too. She kept looking warily at Olivia. Robbie let out a shocked, "Whoa!" or something, then he scooped up his big girl and told her how cute she looked. When she broke down in tears about the short length, he knelt down with her and very sincerely talked to her about the gift she was providing to another child who had no hair. I love him so much, and he said just the right words in that moment. We told him the whole story, which also included two trips to the restroom for Evelyn. It was dimly lit to set a spa mood, and a large photo of a red lipsticked open mouth hung over the potty. She said, "Get me out of here. This room freaks me out." She was so scared that she didn't finish going potty, which was why we had to go back four minutes later. Oh, to be five years old again.

Olivia had a bath, and her curls were drying as we tucked her into bed. She looks darling. I'm really proud of her, and I know we will never forget this day. We laughed, and I animatedly told her exactly what I'd say to the stylist should she ever decide to donate her hair again. I was stern and precise and didn't mess around with my words. I was tough mama, and the girls giggled.

Maybe God decided to wink at us today. "Hey, Julie. It's just hair," He had to remind me. "It will grow. Lighten up." Plus, some sweet little girl is out there right now without hair. Because of the snip happy stylist, that child will have an extra long, super lovely wig made with long, wavy, beautiful golden locks from the head of a child I love. Also, this experience gives us an opportunity to emphasize the fact that Olivia is beautiful on the inside, and she's beautiful no matter what kind of hair style she wears. Everything will be okay.