I've had this hairstyle for over ten years, and I hate it and love it at the same time. Ever since I can remember, my mother loved to cut my hair like that. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, there was no spontaneous shoulder-length hair, no naughty and cute short ponytail, but only a low-hanging mushroom head like a hanging noodle.
People like new things, and I'm no exception. Even if it is the human food, the mountains and the sea, if you let you eat the same kind of every day, do not give a different kind, you will be daunted, abhorrence.
This is also true for my hair, which is like "noodle soup".
I didn't know what a hairstyle was, what a noodle was, or what bangs were. I just wanted to be like my friends, with a few rubber bands to tie my hair, a colorful bow that bounced with my ponytail as I ran, and a picture of my mother sitting in front of the window brushing my hair.
More than anything, I wanted to get rid of the mushroom head and black pot head nicknames that my classmates gave me.
With that kind of hair I did look like a black pot lid on top of my head, and like what a certain hairdresser later called a black hangover. Cut a large section off the base of my shoulder-length hair and let all the strands fall naturally from top to bottom. Cut the bangs on the forehead flush, like a brush over the eyebrows, but also like the noodles or vermicelli drying in front of some people's doors in the fall and winter festivals, in short, in my eyes is ugly and makes me bitter.
Of course it has advantages. For example, in the morning, even if you get up, even if you sleep as a chicken nest or grass, just reach over your head and pull a few times, the chicken nest can be obediently and obediently draped, convenient and trouble-free.
This is what my mother wanted. I was not happy about it. To get rid of it, I fought my mother and refused to cut my hair.
In front of the endless farm work, in buying a bottle of soy sauce have to think twice, mother is also stubborn. She was always dressed in coarse blue cloth, black shoes and no socks, and her hair was combed to the back of her head, rolled into a round pile of buns, and then fixed with the silver hairpin left to her by her grandmother. It looked old-fashioned and backward, but it was clean and elegant. The village women are all like this.
When my hair grew to my shoulders, the end of my hair like a peacock's tail up, my mother would take advantage of my sleep, and secretly cut my hair inch by inch, as quietly as she picks the lamp at night to make cloth shoes.
Hair cut while lying down is no better. When I stood in front of the gaping mirror with trepidation, I always felt aggrieved for the girl in the mirror and felt that my mother had been too hard on her. The big ears on both sides of the cheeks poked out in their entirety, and the flush bangs shrunk to the very top of the forehead, like freshly mowed leeks, revealing only short shoots. The whole head looks like the armor of an ancient general, comical and ridiculous, earthy. Let a person can not help but reach out to pull to pull, want to pull it long, pull off. When I found that it did not help, I ran out and shouted to my mother, who was washing by the stream, "I won't let you cut my hair anymore. Let whoever cuts it won't let you cut it!"
The mother froze, did not speak for a long time.
The father, who works outside all the time, can't stand his daughter's pouting or tears when he comes home. He smiled and said to his mother, "I'll take her out for a haircut, don't make her cry every time, it looks like our family is in trouble."
So I met Li Yufeng. She is the only barbershop owner in town. The key is that she also has a similar hairstyle to mine. But the other people's hair cut how light and smooth, no dog bite like tresses, with the other people's face how to look so good.
The first time I went to her store, she told me with a smile that this hairstyle is called a clear soup and noodles, and it looks especially good when it's cut. The only people who have braids are the old-fashioned ones.
From then on, I began to accept the "hanging noodles" style hair. Especially after her fair and slender hands, the pot cover has become what she called fashion, and there is also the handsome look of Lin Yingzi in "Old Story of the South of the City".
Li Yufeng, on the other hand, is like the grown-up Yingzi. She keeps the barbershop all day long. She was never the only woman in the store and never saw her man. The only evidence of her man's existence is her growing belly. Every day she washed and cut the hair of her customers with a big belly, and when she had time, she sat in front of the door and embroidered cross-stitch, stitch by stitch, carefully and meticulously. When her belly reached a certain level, she closed her shop for more than twenty days. Come back to continue to open the store, see her waist long, shoulder-length hanging hair cut into a man's head, like magic.
After giving birth, she did not embroider cross-stitch, her face was pale, and she loved to look somewhere with empty eyes. The store cycle played Gigi Leung sang "short hair" full of deep feelings of the song echoed in the alley: I have cut my hair short, cut the attachment? I have cut my hair short, cutting off the attachment? Cutting a bifurcation of not being loved. Long and short, short and long, inch by inch in the struggle . I have cut my hair short, cut the punishment? Cut a place to hurt my embarrassment ......
And then go to find her haircut has been two months later, the barber store has become an Internet cafe. I heard that she was ruthless, closed the store, threw her daughter to her parents, and a random man ran to Russia to do business.
The first time I saw this, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and I didn't know what I was getting into.
Without Yufeng's store, I was finally cut off from the "noodle soup". I've been keeping my waist-length hair, and I've been taking care of it in different ways. I'm not sure if I've ever seen a girl on the street with a hair style like this one, but I've been looking at her for a while now, and it seems like I've seen myself in the past.