Frustrated Debbie

Frustrated Debbie by DLBARGRILL

Debbie threw her briefcase to the floor and screamed. She had had enough. After a frustrated Debbie pressed her headhunter, Rhonda explained the situation. Debbie came off too young, too girlish. She was 23, but looked 17. One interviewer commented that after watching Debbie play with her big waist length hair throughout the interview that she felt Debbie was more concerned with her looks than the job.

What was wrong with the job offer she had gotten? Rhonda asked. “He seemed to look at me like a sex object, not an assistant,” Debbie responded. “I don’t want to be in that work environment. In fact, two other men looked at me the same way.”

This wasn’t the way that job interviewing was supposed to go. She had graduated Dean’s List from SMU. She had good qualifications. It was supposed to be easy. But it wasn’t. The only job Debbie could get, she was certain the boss would hit on her.

Debbie looked in the mirror. She shouldn’t be angry with Rhonda. She did look 17. She did spend a lot of time on her hair and playing with it was just what she did when she was nervous. At that moment, Debbie knew she had no other choice. If she wanted to be taken seriously, if she wanted a job, the hair would have to go. She cried. Dan loved her hair. She loved her hair. She didn’t cut it in college when everyone was cutting theirs. She loved it long. The shortest it had ever been was to the top of her breasts.

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Debbie took out a pair of scissors and brought it to her shoulder. She couldn’t cut it. Instead, she put the scissors down, shut her eyes and picked them up again. She stuck the scissors into her hair and cut. It seemed like forever. As she opened her right eye slowly, she saw a two-foot strand of hair falling from the top of her head. She gasped, but closed the eye. If she was going to do this, she couldn’t watch. This was her hair and she was from Texas. She’d been raised that big hair was feminine.

Eyes still closed, Debbie searched for her hair. She was surprised she couldn’t find it. Wait. There it was. She opened and closed the scissors someplace around her cheek. Long strands of beautifully conditioned blonde hair succumbed to gravity. Debbie felt her hair against her chin as the shorn hair curled. She knew she was getting somewhere, but she tried not to think about it. As she hit the back of her neck, she tried to continue along the same line. It wasn’t that easy and she didn’t cut the hair evenly. She still felt long strands roll down her back to the floor. That only left one thing to do, cut the left side of her hair. She felt the spot that her hair was at on the right side, the chin, and tried to do it quickly to the same spot. In no time, all her long hair was shorn.

Debbie opened her eyes. She was horrified at what she saw. It wasn’t that the cut was uneven, it was, or that she didn’t like herself with short hair, she didn’t. The big problem was she looked even younger than she did before. The rough bob made her look 14 now. This wasn’t what she wanted.

Debbie knew she had to cut her hair even shorter. That would make her older. She put the scissors at eye level and cut straight back. Three more inches of hair fell. Debbie proceeded to cut around her ear. Debbie gave a half-smile. This was better. She did the same thing on the other side of her head. The look was getting better, but she now looked like some refugee from the 80’s with a mullet. Her hair was short in front and to the middle of her neck in the back.

She remembered the beard trimmer she had bought Dan. That would do the trick. Debbie found a hand mirror and taped it to a chair in a position where she could see the sink mirror. She put her hand behind her head and found a good spot. Turning on the razor, she applied it to her head. She expected this would be difficult, but the hair came free easily. Running the razor along her occipital bone, she was able to make the haircut a little more right for the 21st century.

Not bad, Debbie thought. But it could use a touchup here. She razored a couple of more inches off on the left. And here. She did the same on the right. The back of her hair was an uneven mess. It fell in different lengths near her nape. She’d have to go shorter. Instead of running the razor through her hair, Debbie ran it along her head. She razored all the hair below her occipital bone to about a half inch long. It took her a little time to do it, but it seemed right.

Now she needed to do something about the sides. The spot where she’d cut initially was shorter than the rest of her hair. Debbie took pieces and razored them to different lengths. Some fell to a half inch above her ears and some were an inch shorter. The hair on top was too thick too. She held it out in her hand and razored the hair to two inches. This was fun. Debbie did the same thing on the other side of her head.

She had to do something in front. She’d always resisted bangs because she didn’t want hair in her face, but now she had no choice. None of her hair was down to her eyebrows. There was a way around bangs. She took the razor and cut the hair to the top of her forehead. Oops. She’d overdone it. She ran her fingers through her hair and pushed a few strands on to her forehead. They weren’t thick bangs, just a few wisps.

But that was actually good. It looked dangerous. Sophisticated. In fact the whole haircut looked a little sophisticated. It was choppy and uneven. A professional hairdresser would probably notice, but no one else would. Some of the hair stood up a little, but that made it funky. In fact the whole haircut looked like something she saw on those girls who hung out around Melrose. It was a very short crop no longer than an inch or two everywhere. Her sideburns were the only thing past the top of her ear.

She ran her fingers through her hair. It was a mess. And that was really good. Her long Texas-sized hair was gone. She knew she should miss it, but she didn’t. Debbie looked 23. She didn’t look 17 and she loved it.

Where were her car keys? With this look, she would forget the conservative suit. She needed a suit with a little style for interviewing. She would get the next job.


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