We got ourselves a haircut today because we have a family Christmas party to go to on Saturday and we didn’t want to be the messy-haired relatives. At least Troy didn’t. I seem to be the messy-haired relative about 99% of the time due to my highly unmanageable hair so I’ve kind of got used to it. I got an okayish haircut. Not bad but not great either. I have nothing against Caucasian hairdressers but the best haircuts I’ve ever got here in Canada, I got from Asian and African hairdressers.
Speaking of haircuts, guess what my mother’s last wish was? It was for me to get a haircut. The thing is, I have to be in the right mood to go for a haircut. When she was in the hospital, all I wanted to do was to be with her. She kept telling me to go get a haircut because my hair looked like a big bundle of mess, but I just couldn’t. Getting a haircut was the last thing on my to-do list. I didn’t go until she passed away. I got myself a haircut so I would look decent on her funeral. I’m glad the hairdresser didn’t ask me what I’m getting a haircut for because telling her that I’m getting a haircut to go to my mother’s funeral in a few hours would’ve made for a very awkward moment.
My mum used to cut my hair, though I always had to talk her into it. We called this mother-daughter deal “Mother’s Wing Salon”. I still remember the last time she gave me a haircut. It was some time in February, the year she died. For some reasons, I knew it would be the last time. The next time I needed a haircut, she just couldn’t do it anymore. My mum liked my hair short. My hair is short now. I hope she can see it because I know it would make her smile.
Your mother’s so sweet, throughout my childhood I always envy my friends who got loving mothers like yours.
Mine was mean, but at least she treat her sons better.
Except for my mother, we’re all boys in the family, and my father saw to it that we had the same haircut. Our hair was cut short. It didn’t exceed 2 cm. Our father would reserve a day wherein we’d all go to the barber shop, my brothers and I. Good times.
My mum wouldn’t let anyone say anything mean to me. She even defended me against one of the nurses who said something snarky to me when she was dying. She was that awesome.
Wait – you CANNOT have a C******** party to go to. You just can’t. You’re going to just have to explain to them that it is NOVEMBER and some girl on the internet said C******** should never even be mentioned before December!
We have TWO C******** parties to go to this month. And we bought a fake plastic tree to hang tacky stuff over the holidays last night so I guess the damage is done. Sorry.
See, that’s a mother should be, protecting your child from people who means harm.
My mother was a math professor in a prestige university, and she wouldn’t even stand up for me when my math teacher in elementary school wronged my homework.
Thank God for my daddy (and his sister, too). They’re my heroes, or else I’d be a junkie right now, all because of my biological mother LOL
Well, my dad is a jerk. He was mean to my mum and to my older brother and me. Now he can only be mean to my older brother because my mum is dead and I live on the other side of the world – thank god! I do feel sorry for my older brother. I wish he could get away from him. My dad was barely bearable when my mum was still alive. After my mum died, I couldn’t deal with his crap anymore so I left as soon as I got the chance. It was the best move ever!
yeah, I must admit I left the country because I’d like to stay away from my mother and her hobby of laying guilt trips on me
but the good thing is, at least it’s only one of our parents is a ‘no good’, some people aren’t that lucky