STREETSIDE STORY OF THE MONTH

My Haircut Worries
Fanny Yang


No! My dad cut my hair! And fourth grade is starting!

My dad wanted me to have a new hairstyle. I liked my hair a lot, so
I didn't really cut it. Then my grandma told me that I should cut my
hair, so I told my dad to cut my hair, but not that short.

"You know, Fanny, you should layer your hair. Your hair looks like a
Mao Zedong!" my grandma snapped.

"But I like my hair the way it is," I whined.

"Well, too bad. Tomorrow I'm going to take you out to get a
haircut," she insisted.

"Fine," I sighed.

The next day my dad requested that I get a haircut. I thought, hey,
since my grandma wants my hair to be layered, this is the perfect
chance.

I stated, "OK! But just layer it, don't cut it short."

"I won't," he laughed.

About 3:20 in the afternoon, I went down to my garage to play. I saw
my parents' car is a BMW and a Toyota. I touched the BMW, and felt its
slippery surface. I opened my garage door, and could smell the food
from McDonald's. When I was playing, I felt happy. My dad went down
with me to cut my hair. While my dad was cutting my hair, I could
hear the honking of cars and the chatter of people as they walked
by. After a little while, the smell of McDonald's filled the air in
my garage. I could almost taste the French fries and burgers. The
weather was cool.

So, for the next ten to fifteen minutes, my dad was busy cutting my
hair. When my dad was done, I quickly touched my hair. "What? How
come my hair is so short?" I exclaimed.

"Oh, I thought you would want a new hairstyle," my dad replied.

I rushed up to my room, and saw that I looked cool. "Not bad, not
bad," I observed. I told him I was worried because, when he layered
my hair last time, he made it really short. (Layered means to make
it look thinner.) I had to wait so long for my hair to grow back to
its original length. This time, my dad only cut my hair a little bit
short.

I chose my dad to cut my hair because, when he came to the United
States, his first job was as a barber. At his job, he accidentally
poured alcohol or something on his fingernails. Now his fingers
don't have nails. Well, some don't.

My dad is about 5'7" and has broad shoulders. He has
gold-and-blackish hair and brown eyes. When he is cutting my hair,
he moves around so he can cut different parts of my hair. His voice
sounds strict because he doesn't want me to move or else he'll make
a mistake. My dad likes to cut hair because he used to be a barber,
and I guess he misses being one. He always asks me if I want a new
haircut. I guess my dad feels good because he enjoys cutting hair.
Sometimes I would say, "Why don't I buy you those Barbie heads with
lots of hair for you to play with?" Then I would laugh. But my dad
just looks at me.

When my dad dries my hair, he dries it in some kind of
style. I learned to make sure that my dad doesn't cut my hair too
short.


About the Author
Hi, my name is Fanny Yang. I was born in 1994 at one a.m. I live in
San Francisco. I go to school at Francisco, and my elementary school
is Gordon J. Lau. My hobbies are swimming, building stuff and
watching TV. I love to read a lot. My auntie said since I read a lot
I should be a lawyer, but I'm afraid I won't be a good one.
Actually, I want to be a veterinarian. I love all kinds of animals,
and I want to help them. My favorite food is steamed broccoli and
SPAM. I also go gaga for cute stuff. You wouldn't want to be a cute
dog or stuffed animal because I would squeeze you to death. I
wouldn't really squeeze the dog to death, because it's a living
thing and I don't want it to die. My favorite animal is the dog. I
love dogs because they're smart, loyal and fun to be with. When I
grow up and have enough money to afford a dog, I would get a golden
retriever.