One tentative snip and then I was possessed with the necessity to act and be done with my boldness. My curls fell away like skin being shed by a snake.
By: Maisie Houghton
I was born in 1940, a bad time for the world, but I never did anything bad until the day I cut off my hair and left it on the floor for my mother to find, a bright, hot pool of yellow curls.
I was four. It was wartime and we were living in a rented house in Winter Park, Florida. My father, an officer in the …