Haircut

I did a haircut to my daughter today. I mean, really, by myself.

I am not a pro though, only attended a one-week class long ago during Perestroika. Since then I practiced on many heads of friends and family. I did strange fancy styles requested by my brother, then a university student. I cut hair of my colleagues at work, for a chocolate bar (natural exchange was popular during Perestroika). I cut hair of my dad until the end of his life – and he liked it. And for my child of course.

When she was small it was a matter of economy because our life was quite tough. Then she was wearing long hair, and I almost forgot the skill. But now, with her social anxiety disorder, it is difficult for her to communicate with hairdressers. She can’t explain them properly what she wants. As a result, she is never content. Recently she even cut her own hair – which was not very good.

So I was somewhat nervous because her image is important for her. Luckily, it’s more or less fine. She is happier than with her previous style, and looks more androgynous, just as she wanted. I’m glad!