I had my fair share of awful haircuts growing up. However, my cannon event was not about the haircut I ended up with, but how I got it. One night, just before starting Kindergarten, I was fresh out of the bath and my mom told me to go get the hairbrush so she could brush my hair. At five years old, with very limited critical thinking skills, I took a round styling brush and did what I believed was brushing my hair. By the time my mom reached me it was too late, there was no recovery. Right smack dab in the front of my head a piece of hair almost two inches deep had to be cut right to the root, the brush wasn’t coming out any other way. It was certainly bad at first, but as time went on it only got worse. Everyday for years while the bald patch was growing out I wore a single small braid on one side of my part clipped back with various barrettes to try and conceal the monstrosity.
