Crew Cut
The day I went to school with a crew cut, I was greeted by roars of laughter and plenty of comments. I really looked funny with a crew cut but I was forced to have my hair cut that way. It was my foolishness and my cousin’s fault that it happened. Here is how it happened. The monthly ritual of visiting the barber to get my hair cut was tedious. Long hair was like a sin and mine was beginning to cover my ears. My cousin reckoned that he could save me some money if I let him cut my hair. He assured me that he knew how to do it properly. So foolishly I allowed him to use a pair of scissors on my hair. After five minutes of his handiwork, one look in the mirror told me that it was a disaster. His scissors had created havoc on my beautiful hair! I protested but he assured me that he had not finished and the finished product would be great. It became even worse. The cut was so uneven and haphazard that I had no choice but to visit a real barber to correct the damage. The barber laughed and said that the only remedy was a crew cut. So I reluctantly agreed to it. The final result was that my hair looked and felt like bristles, being only two or three millimetres long. At least it looked better than the mess my cousin made. I found that a crew cut was not too bad after all. I did not have to comb my hair and my head felt much cooler. As for the laughter and comments, they stopped after a while.
