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The Hair Wiz was a Great Idea, but it Hurt Me so Much
Let's rewind the clock and step into the world of thriftiness that shaped my childhood. You see, my family had a knack for saving a penny or two, and that often meant my haircuts were an at-home affair. Yes, I was the proud owner of many bowl cuts – if you're familiar with this site, that image probably aligns perfectly with your mental picture.
My sister was the designated hair artist, wielding a hefty pair of scissors to craft my hairdo. She'd snip away, and that's how the story usually went. But then came the day she stumbled upon a long-forgotten relic in the closet – an old hair wiz my father had stashed away.
Intrigued by this newfound treasure, my sister decided to give it a whirl. Oh boy, what a ride that turned out to be! Instead of the smooth, effortless haircut we expected, this hair wiz seemed to have a vendetta against my hair. It clamped on and tugged with a vengeance, making me yelp in pain. It was like a battle between the hair wiz and my locks, and I can assure you, the hair wiz was winning.
I suspect that old contraption might have been as dull as a butter knife. When the ordeal was over, I was left near tears, nursing both my wounded hair and my wounded pride. And as if that wasn't enough, the following day at school was a whole new level of torture. The kids, merciless as ever, didn't hold back.
And so, I stand before you, bearing the scars of that fateful day. Damn you, Hair Wiz! Your name will forever be etched in my memory as a symbol of hair-related trials and tribulations. But you know what they say – what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And if anything, that incident turned me into a true connoisseur of haircuts, making me appreciate the art of a good trim more than ever before.