Claire took intro to cosmetology last year as a sophomore in high school. She loves doing her makeup and having her hair fancified so we thought maybe that might be something she would like to do as a "career". She ended up not liking it which is fine but because she took the class I thought she would be helpful with my fro. I hate my hair - it is thick, curly, and can eat a brush in a heartbeat.
I like to keep my hair short but still long enough to put in a bun close to the back of my neck. She did it for me the first time when it was about waist length and I was sick of it. She cut it up to my shoulders and it was perfect. That was the last time it has been cut and it was getting long again. So last night I asked her if she would cut it for me again and she agreed.
Fast forward to me hopping out of the shower and my hair was not looking happy. Looked more like she cut it with a weed whacker. As she was fixing it I mentioned something about how she was holding the scissors.
Claire: Well she never really showed us how to hold them properly.
Me: What? How is she going to teach ya'll how to cut hair and not show you guys how to use the scissors?
Claire: We actually never even held scissors or cut hair.
Me: Wwwhhhaaaat? Well, what the hell DID she teach you?
Claire: How to braid.
Me: But you are a terrible braider.
Claire: I know.
*Sheesh, I need my money back. On a positive note though hubby just told me he really liked my hair. He said it reminded him of how I had it when we first met and then smiled. Awwww.*
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