“What did you say Eugene did now?” I ask Zel raising an eyebrow in suspicion because I hope it’s not what I think it is.
“He went ahead and cut my hair short, see — ”
Oh, I saw.
“What did we talk about setting boundaries, Zel?” I catch myself with that temper of mine. “You know what, scratch that. When he cut your hair, how did that make you feel?”
I see many clients who lose all sense of themselves and are absolutely smitten once “love” arrives. Even though I see this happen again and again and again, I still have the same infuriating response to it.
“Well, I was shocked at first,” Zel stutters as she speaks. Oh, how I notice the stutter. “But then when I found out why he did it, I was kind of okay with that. Besides, I like it short.” She squeaks at that last sentence.
I’m still staring at her dumbfounded, the girl was 90% hair and now 100% of it is gone.
“Okay, Zel. That’s very good of you to take a positive outlook in this whole catastrophe.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it a catastrophe — ”
“You’re right,” I burst out laughing. “It’s a disaster.”
“I Wouldn’t — ”
“I would,” I say and scribble on my notebook nearly scratching a hole into the page. “Shall we book a session with both you and Mr. Fitzherbert?”
“Would that be necessary?”
“Oh it is absolutely critical at this point, I would say,” I make sure I drive this point home. “We don’t want to get into any more toxic relationships like your foster mom, do we?”
She shakes her head. Finally, she understands.
“I’ll be sure to bring him in next time.”
I breathe a sigh of relief now that the girl is talking some sense. Poor soul, what has that monster done to her hair!