Personally coiffed

"Ilajna, if you're not doing anything much, do you fancy giving me a haircut?"
"Yeah, sure! That would be fun!"

Which brings me to Monday afternoon, perched atop a chair in the middle of the sun-filled living room, holding my breath. Ilajna hovered around me, hands and pockets equipped with combs, scissors and rubber bands.

"Do something wild, tousled and fun. As long as my hair is still long enough to tie up when I go biking, totally feel free to be creative with it."

These words must have come out of my mouth of their own volition, because none of my brain filtration processes would have allowed for such a degree of free license. As soon as I had said them, I felt a twang of insecurity.

Silence, for a few moments, as I pondered my folly.
Snip. Snip, snip, around my ears.

"Erm, what are you going to do with my hair?" I finally ventured.
"Hmm, don't know yet," Ilajna murmured, lips pursed in concentration as she cut off a pedantic 2 mm from the tips of a few hairs.
"Erm. When will you know?" I asked, since she was already half way through the haircut.

She laughed. "Relax," she said. "I did your hair two years ago, remember? And it was fine!"

I couldn't dispute that.
So instead I must mentally willed the stress-knots in my unwind themselves. Bit my lip nervously as she cut the hair framing my face.

"There, done." she said at last, putting her scissors down. And I bounded out of the chair to examine myself in the bedroom mirror.

And there it was, the perfect, perfect summer haircut. Tousled and messy, short but yet tie-up-able. Nothing like a roommate to add that personal touch.