My worst haircutting experience ever

Friday started out hopeful.

My sister Maile called and asked me if I would cut her hair. And that if I cut her hair, the money she didn't spend could be used to eat out for lunch.

So I said"Heck yeah I'll do it!"

She arrived with hair way past her shoulders. Ready for a change and new hair possibilities.

Now if you are wondering why she would trust me, I have cut her hair before. I have cut all of my children's hair and I have been Jeff's main hairdresser for 14 years.

So I had confidence and she had confidence in me.

Oh how much we were both about to be humbled.

I went and borrowed my neighbors gray handled scissors (since I couldn't find mine) and after deciding upon a new length, we also discussed thinning her hair out a little as well. She didn't want me to use a razor type implement to thin it though because it gives her split ends. I told her, oh no worries. I have these neat little thinning scissors.

Which are also gray handled.

So, I proceeded with the haircut. I started with the first layer-luckily the layer hidden by all the other layers of hair.

After I cut the decided upon amount, I thought, oh so cleverly, that I would thin the layers as I went. I had set down the GRAY handled scissors down while I looked at it, and picked up what I thought were the GRAY handled thinning scissors.

It wasn't until I had already done this that we both started freaking out.





Yes. I cut a section of my sister's hair completely off. And she watched it, probably in slow motion, in my bathroom mirror.

I looked at the thinning scissors,(which were in fact still the regular scissors) so confused as to what was wrong with them. Maile jumped from the stool, backing into the corner of my bathroom (presumably to get as far away from me as possible) while crying "Why?! Why?! Why?!".

To which I stupidly replied, with her face in my hands, "I'll fix it, I'll fix it, I'll fix it!"

"How are you going to fix this?!" she wailed.

"I don't know, I just will. " Plus a bunch of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm soooo sorry".

I know both of us had eyes as wide as saucers. My hands were shaking, her whole body was shaking. And all I could think was "I ruined her hair, I ruined her hair".

Finally, we both composed ourselves enough to take stock of the situation. Maile sat deep breathing for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Laughing only in the way you do when something traumatic is finally over and you can see the hilarity in it.

I followed suit, and we belly laughed for a good five minutes before we could regain our composure.

Then I went to work assessing what I had done. I won't lie to you. It wasn't good. But luckily, blessedly, the place I chopped her hair was right by her ear, on the bottom most layer, and when her hair is parted on the correct side, you can't see it at all. Even if her hair is pulled back, the little bit of fringe tucks neatly behind her ear.

So with shaking hands, and a ban on the thinning scissors, I finished her hair. Yes, she let me touch her hair again. I know, it's shocking the trust she had left for me.


She has received repeated compliments on her new do. And if I wasn't so ashamed of that little bit of sheared fringe, I would be very proud of the job I did. Of course, she is a super sport, the best sister ever. She can laugh about it, and loves to show anyone who comments on her hair the hidden little secret.

But best of all? She did not require me to chop my hair in similar fashion as punishment for my stupid-ness.

Which I would have done.

If she had held me down and forced me.

I love you Maile. Thanks for being who you are and loving me despite this.

The end.