The Terrifying Tale of the Teenager and the Trim

A couple of weeks ago, I sat on the floor, staring into the hallway mirror with a distant look in my eyes….and a pair of scissors in my hand.

I’ve always liked my hair.

It’s thick, grows fast and holds curl well.  Normally I’d consider it one of my best assets but I’d been so busy recently and so distracted by everything and everyone else that I’d really neglected myself.  My hair had borne the brunt of this neglect.

*If my hairdressers are reading this, please look away now.*

I’d been showering, tying my hair into a mum-pony while wet, leaving it like that for a few days and then taking it out of the bobble only to wash it again.  Sometimes it was still wet underneath the bobble.  Yes I know, that’s gross but at least I wasn’t using a scrunchie.  Not all the time anyway.

We were due to leave for a friend’s partt in just an hour and as I attempted to brush through my mop, I discovered that I had a delightfully matted clump at the back.  My neglect had created a giant dreadlock and frankly that wasn’t the look I was going for.

In a moment of despair, knowing that my hairdressers was closed, I decided to trim my hair.  It always helps.  Doesn’t it? Yes I’d take an inch off and then drown it in conditioner.  That should do the trick.

The teenager (Beth): “What on Earth are you doing”

Me: “Trimming my hair.”

Beth:.”There’s literally no way that this is going to end well.  Let me help you.”

Me: “Er no.”

Beth:”Oh come on I’ve watched loads of tutorials about this sort of thing.  I know what I’m doing”

I’ve always been quite chilled about my hair.  I mean, it grows back!  But I knew that if she made a bad job of it, Beth would be gutted and that actually she just wanted to have a go.  Cutting hair is kinda fun!

So I put it in a bobble and told her to cut below.  I’d straighten it afterwards but then she’d have had a go!

Me: “Cut below the bobble and in as straight a line as possible”

Beth: “Duh!




Actually it sounds more like a crunch and my hair’s so thick.that Beth was really having to put her back into it just to get the scissors through!

Me: “Beth are you cutting below the bobble”

Beth: “You said above”

Me: “I didn’t.”

Beth: “Oh.  Don’t worry.  It’ll be nice in the end.”




Beth: “I watched a YouTube video like this once.  It went soooo wrong”



Me: “Beth are you actually concentrating on  you’re doing?  Is it straight?”

Beth: “Erm…..”

The left side was about 4″ shorter than the right and it somehow went up dramatically at the back.

I was horrified.  She made me a brew in THIS mug.

It had a bit of my hair in it.

I snipped away it furiously.  Phill of course was full of live and support and definitely didn’t laugh and take photos.

I considered my options.  Hat?  Headscarf?  Hiding until the haitdreshair could fit me in?  But I didn’t give up.  I jumped in the shower and deep conditioned what hair I had left.  I could at least show up at the party with clean hair right?  Then I snipped at it again and again and then dried it, snipped it, sprayed it, snipped it, brushed it, snipped it.  Until I had something that passed for a hair cut.

By now Phill, Beth and Dottie were waiting for me in the car.  When I got in Dottie asked me where my hair was (cute), Phill said he didn’t like it (typical) and Beth asked if I’d worked in a salon in a past life (clever girl).

Despite my initial shock/horror/disbelief/murderous thoughts, I actually really love my hair now.  It’s the shortest it’s been since, well, since it first grew and I don’t think I’d have taken quite such a big plunge had my hand not been forced.  So I’m actually quite grateful to Beth for hacking a big chunk off my hair.

It’s iritating not being able to tie it in a mum-pony but given that I now have form for.serious hair neglect, it’s probably a good thing ?

Love Rachel