Posted by: Jamie Stamm | December 15, 2008

She. Cut. Her. Hair.

I was putting away clothing in Cera’s room Saturday night when I noticed my silver brush sitting on her desk. It struck me as a little unusual because that brush is usually in one of three places:

  • Stuffed in between the cushions of the living room sofa
  • Lost in the deep recesses of my purse
  • Or right where it should be on my bathroom counter (this is the rarest of the three).

But I didn’t read too much into it. I just left it there and moved on to deliver Anthony’s clean laundry.

When I was ready to brush my hair on Sunday, I grabbed the brush from Cera’s desk and, as I pulled it toward me, a patch of fine, blond hair fell to the floor. I looked at it quizzically as I picked it up, noting how even it was on one end.

And then I saw the scissors.

I ran to the living room.

“Cera, did you cut your hair?”

“No,” she said – before turning around and seeing the brush in one of my hands and her hair and the scissors in the other.

Then she burst into tears.

“Why would you cut your hair?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

(A little background here: Cera is obsessed with long hair. Getting her to agree to even a trim is a long, sometimes painful, process. And now she had cut it herself?)

“Honey,” I said, trying to remain calm, “we don’t cut our own hair, OK? Don’t ever do this again.”

I headed back to her room to put the scissors on her desk, and there was clump No. 2. It was twice, if not three times, as long as the first 1-inch patch of hair that I’d found.

“Cera,” I called, “please come here.”

She cried even harder when she saw me holding the additional hair.

“Sit down,” I said.

It was time to assess the damage. The first cut was made right along her cheek, and I think I can blend it in pretty easily and then cut the other side to match.

But the second, well, that came from back. I’m not even sure how she did it. But the only way to fix it would be to cut her hair fairly short all around. And I think that would traumatize Cera even more than she’s already traumatized herself.

So Cera and I talked and decided to leave the back just how it is. It helps that her hair is so light in color – you don’t really notice that a clump is missing unless you’re looking for it.

What bothers me the most is that this is so out of character for Cera. She’s not a bad kid or a sneaky one – in fact, she talks so much that she often tells me things I don’t need to hear. But this, well, she doesn’t want to talk about it at all. She wells up if I even mention it.

So, for now, I’m chalking this one up to childhood curiousity. And being at least a little bit grateful that Cera cut her own hair instead of convincing her brother to let her cut his.



  1. Why no pictures to accompany this blog?

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