Donating

I wanted to get rid of all of my hair, and mind you, I had a lot. I was lazy and had decided not to brush it for four days in a row. Some people can get away with that, but not with my hair. It was bad. Really bad.

I was tired of taking care of it and having to deal with it in any way. I don't style my hair in any way whatsoever, so really I had nothing more than too much of it. I wanted it gone. However, at an early age It was drilled into my head that there were countries much less fortunate than mine and to very thankful for everything I have. This turned me into a hoarder of everything, including hair. I can't throw anything away without it giving me a little bit of guilt, be it food, clothes, or used toilet paper.

That was when I came to the conclusion that I could donate my hair. I could sell it too, but it is also hard for me to take money from people even when I know I've worked very hard for it. Giving it away was the thing to do, so I had my stepmom call the hair salons (because I am downright terrified of social interactions) around were I live. Nobody did any hair-donation-stuffs. We would have to lop my hair off at home.

I told him that I wanted it to be really short. Especially in the back, but dad would have none of it. I said something intelligent like, "But Bubba has short hair!"

Dad: "Your brother is a boy."

Me: "That's sexist!"

Dad: "You're not getting your hair cut short."

And that was the end of the discussion.

After telling everyone at school that I was donating my hair, I realized that nobody really believed me. I can be a bit stubborn when faced with opposition. I was going to cut my hair, and I wasn't fooling around, dangit! Finally I made the choice. Tonight is the night.

That night, after my shower, I had my unwitting stepsister braid my hair. I thanked her and snuck into the kitchen. I tied the top and bottom ends of the braid with rubber bands. Then I grabbed a pair of scissors. 

And that is how I made a difference in the world of a child.