Cancel it.

I comb my hair. I give them a glance. A glance because it is too hard to stare. A glance because they aren't worth a stare. Then I glance up, I stare. Into the mirror. Into the depths. I know. I couldn't get a haircut again. I just couldn't. I don't want to. But I have to. Luscious, long hair? You've got to cut it short if you want it long. That is the deal. That is my part of the deal. And I have to fulfill it.

The doorbell rings. There is a courier. A courier for me. What could it be? HUL sent me a shampoo? I wonder why. TreSemme Split Remedy, it says. Ha, as if shampooing my hair is enough. Do you think I haven't tried? Do you think I haven't used them? Do you think I don't love my hair enough? My mother says give it a go. I say No, too many hair products. She says she has a good feeling about this. It is really very hard to say no to mothers. Who made it so? I say Ok.

It is time, it is time to cut them. My head says. It is time to try this shampoo, the last one. My mother says. I listen to my mother. I shampoo my hair. I condition them. Is it enough? Why does it feel different? Could it be true? I delay the haircut. I may have to cancel it perhaps. Who knows? 

I try it the next time.

I delay the haircut.

And the next.

I delay the haircut.

And the next.

I delay the haircut.

And the times after that. 

It has been 8 weeks now that I've delayed the haircut. Perhaps it is time to cancel? I pick up the phone. I cancel the apoointment. I don't need a haircut. The splits are gone. The splits have disappeared. The scissors' blades needn't split for me. Splits are sad. Let's never split again. Let's stay together. Forever. My hair. The scissors. And our love. You know why it's hard to say no to mothers.

This post has been written as an entry for IndiBlogger's TRESemmé Split Remedy competition.