The day I won by Liam

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When I was a little kid my dad used to take me to the barbershop and give the barber very clear instructions on what I ‘needed’ to get. I always hated this, I never really liked short hair, and I always thought I’d look better with it longer.
As months went by turning into years, I was finally old enough to go to the barbershop by myself. I was brainwashed into thinking I needed a short haircut for several years, in which I got a short back and sides and this went on for a couple of years. The same old routine of me looking like everyone else.
But the day had come to change. Hopped onto the chair, he put wrapped the cape around me and asked ‘what will it be, the usual?’ I said no. I explained wanted it longer because I’m growing it out. He looked at me with a puzzled expression because he always thought I’d just be getting this short back and sides until the day I die.
So the time came it got past my ears, of course my dad wasn’t happy, but what could he do? Drag me by my hair to the barbershop? Our family doesn’t run like that. He just had to accept that I want long hair.
He asked me to cut my hair because it looked dirty and too long. I told him that it should be my choice and not his; he huffed and puffed because he wasn’t getting his way. This isn’t to say I won’t ever go short again but it’s nice to know that I can stand up for myself, even something as petty as my haircut.

The day I told my parents they don’t control my life is the day I won.

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