Hair Adventures of Priya – Part 2

 Hair Adventures of Priya – Part 2

Self Boycut in the Bathroom

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A Secret Desire for Control

Years passed, but the memory of that summer haircut never faded.

Priya was now 14, taller, more independent, but the shadow of her past haircuts still haunted her. Each year, as summer approached, she felt a familiar sense of dread. She had grown her hair long again—shoulder-length, silky, and thick. But she knew it wouldn’t last.

Her mother still controlled her hair, just as she controlled so many other things in Priya’s life. School, studies, curfews—everything was dictated by rules. But hair… hair felt personal.

And Priya wanted control.

The Final Argument

One evening, as she sat on the floor braiding her hair, her mother walked in.

"It's time for a haircut," she announced casually, folding freshly ironed clothes.

Priya's heart clenched.

"Amma, no," she said firmly. "I like my hair this length."

Her mother sighed. "Priya, you know it’s too hot in summer. It’s better if you keep it short. You always look neat with short hair."

Priya gritted her teeth. "But I don't want to! It’s my hair!"

Her mother frowned. "Don't argue. We’ll go this weekend."

Priya felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She was tired of this. Tired of being told what to do with her own hair.

That night, as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a rebellious thought entered her mind.

What if I cut it myself?

It was a wild idea. A dangerous one. But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it.

She wanted to prove a point.

She wanted to make the decision before her mother did.

The Plan

The next afternoon, when she got home from school, the house was empty. Her parents were out shopping.

This was her chance.

She hurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her heart pounded as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark, straight hair rested just past her shoulders.

Slowly, she ran her fingers through it, imagining what it would feel like shorter.

A nervous excitement buzzed through her.

She reached for the scissors from the small drawer under the sink. They were sharp—her mother used them for cutting fabric. Priya took a deep breath and held them up to her hair.

No turning back now.

The First Snip

She grabbed a thick handful of hair and pulled it forward. The scissors felt heavy in her hands. She positioned them just below her chin and squeezed.

SNIP.

A large chunk of hair dropped into the sink.

Her hands trembled. Her breath hitched.

She stared at the severed strands, dark and glossy against the white porcelain.

She reached up and touched the uneven ends. It was shorter than she had expected, jagged and rough.

But there was no going back.

A strange thrill ran through her. She lifted another section and began cutting again, this time with more confidence.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Hair fell all around her—on the sink, on her shoulders, onto the bathroom floor. The sound of the scissors was sharp, rhythmic, almost hypnotic.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The hair on one side was much shorter than the other, a messy, choppy disaster. She laughed nervously.

“I look crazy,” she whispered to herself.

But she didn’t stop.

She kept cutting, evening out the sides as best as she could.

The back was harder. She twisted her head, struggling to see. She had to go by feel alone, snipping cautiously, hoping she wasn’t making it worse.

By the time she was done, her hair was barely reaching her ears—an uneven, shaggy boycut.

She gasped.

It was… awful.

Crooked, choppy, and nothing like the sleek styles she had seen in magazines.

But it was hers.

She had done it.

Reality Sinks In

As the adrenaline faded, panic took its place.

What had she done?

Her mother would be furious.

Her teachers would ask questions.

Her friends would laugh.

Her heart pounded as she tried smoothing the uneven ends, but there was nothing she could do.

Hair covered the floor, a sea of dark strands. She crouched down, gathering them with shaky hands, stuffing them into a plastic bag. She had to hide the evidence.

She quickly wiped the sink, brushed off her clothes, and threw the bag deep into the trash.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the mirror one last time.

She looked… different.

Her face, once framed by soft locks, was now fully exposed. Her large brown eyes seemed even bigger. She touched the short strands at her nape, feeling the lightness.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was hers.

The Aftermath

That evening, she avoided her mother as much as possible, keeping her head down, answering in short replies.

But she couldn’t hide forever.

At dinner, her mother finally noticed.

"Priya… what happened to your hair?!"

Priya swallowed hard. "I… I cut it myself."

Her mother’s eyes widened. "You did what?"

Her father looked up from his plate, frowning. "Why would you do that?"

Priya took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to. I didn’t want to go to the salon again. I wanted to cut it on my own terms."

Her mother was speechless.

For the first time in years, Priya had made a decision about her own hair—without asking, without permission.

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. "It’s uneven. We’ll have to get it fixed tomorrow."

But Priya didn’t care.

She had done it herself.

And that was all that mattered.

The School Reactions

The next day at school, Priya braced herself for the teasing.

And, as expected, it came.

"Did you lose a bet?"

"Why is it so uneven?"

"Looks like a rat chewed your hair!"

She felt her cheeks heat up. But unlike before, she didn’t lower her head in shame.

Instead, she smirked. "Yeah? Well, I did it myself. So I guess I’m my own barber now."

Her friends stared. Some laughed. Some rolled their eyes. But for the first time, Priya didn’t feel embarrassed.

She felt powerful.

She had done something reckless, something bold. And even if the haircut wasn’t perfect, she had made the choice.

And that felt good.

A New Chapter

That night, as she sat in front of the mirror, running her fingers through her short hair, she smiled.

Her mother had taken her to a salon after school, where the barber had evened it out, shaping it into a proper pixie cut. It looked neater now—still short, but stylish.

She tilted her head, studying herself.

It was strange. She had spent years dreading short hair. But now that it was her own decision, she didn’t mind it at all.

In fact…

She kind of liked it.

A small, mischievous thought crossed her mind.

Maybe next time, I’ll go even shorter.

She grinned.

For the first time in her life, she looked forward to her next haircut.

Because now, she was the one in control.

And nothing had ever felt better.

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To Be Continued…

(Next: Part 3 – College Boycut at the Barbershop)

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This version expands Priya’s emotional journey, the tension, and the thrill of her self-haircut. Let me know if you’d like any refinements!