Haircut

I fear haircut. My fear today is more to do with unknown factor of how long will I have my hair as against my childhood fear?    

Today I went to salon for my haircut. I was reading some absolutely biased survey conducted by AARP magazine about greenest city, most health conscious city, etc. I was engrossed reading the duh survey results when the salon door opened and in came a mom with her crying child. I should not call it a crying child but a terrified child. He was shouting at the top of his voice and had both his hands covering his head in a gesture to protect his beloved hair. He was pleading his mom to go home and even apologized for anything he had done wrong. All this reminded me of my childhood when I was equally terrified of such fierce place. And today I wonder why are children scared of haircut?   

Let us dissect the experience at the salon from the child’s point of view. First, you are going to a crazy place with some crazy smell and scary buzzes and sounds. The sight of the place is not too pleasant as well. There is hair lying everywhere and people are sitting on weird looking chairs with an apron that only exposes their head. And then there are people standing with sharp shiny scissors and clippers as they work on the people on the chair. This place looks nothing different than a slaughter house for a child. It is truly an uncomfortable place where you hold still since a stranger wants to cut your hair; your beloved hair.   

Coming back to present, the child was still howling as he sat on his mom’s lap, both with an apron on. He child didn’t even want to look anywhere. His mom pulled his hands away from his head and now he covered his face with his tiny hands. He didn’t want to see the stranger lady with shiny sharp clippers. As the clippers buzzed and moved on his head, he was literally shaking. He was begging his mom to leave and cover his face. The buzz wasn’t the most pleasing sound of the day for him. His mom was trying to keep him busy by talking to him about school and friends, etc. However, the child was trying to get away from the chair. 

After the clippers came the scissors and you can see the look in his eyes as he saw those sharp things get close to him. The mirror showed it all and he jumped off the chair. Although, it was tough to get him sit steady, the scared kid was trying his best to forget as he fought in vain. With his fist clinched hard, teeth pressing hard and grinding, eyes closed and the tension that could be seen from the veins on his neck. He had submitted himself to fate as his mom held him tight and the salon lady worked. Tears rolled down the cheeks and the child was red; probably confessing to God about all the candies he had without telling his mom. Finally, after about 10-15 the child was let go.   

The whole experience was interesting to watch and it made me travel back to days when I feared the haircut. And I still remember how my grandpa convinced me that God will cut the salon guy’s ear off if he hurts me. I believed it then and somewhere I believe it still.