The Haircut - a funny but partly true poem

This is a funny take on an experience that I underwent - read haircut- I hope you like it

The cynosure of all eyes
my hair would be
As I walk past the old and young
with their tongues wagging
and jaws dropping at me.
I would be the object of
envy amidst my kind
The object of contempt
for the old and wise.
How I would toss my hair
with my nose in the air
All the while
flashing my brilliant smile.
If only looks could kill
I would think to myself
No one
would be spared still.
I would redefine
how a haircut should be.
I would redefine
the very concept of femininity.
Atlast, the day arrived
a historic day,not to say the least.
A day,perceptions would change,
Inhibitions lost,shackles would unhinge
and freedom be gained.
I sat on the barber's chair.
I couldn't sit still.
I sat quivering with excitement
just as my dad would
when he saw our monthly phone bill.
I told the barber I wanted my hair cut
cut as short as a haircut could be.
He was surprised,shocked even
that a girl like me
would want to lose her lustrous curls
to look as bland as he.
I told him in great detail
even as he was busy
picking the dirt in his nail,
exactly how I wanted it to be.
He replied absently
that it was no big deal
a cup of tea ,really.
I felt comforted by his confidence
and happier still,
when he said I could pull off the look
as easily as he swallowed his pill.
My hair was in good hands
I thought, as he carefully
tied it into 4 different clots.
He must pay great attention to detail!
He then took his pair of scissors
and cut off the 4 clumps
without a second thought.
I almost let out a wail!
Before I could react
he continued to cut away
my fine locks,which
with horror I realized,
he wasn't looking at half the time.
I shut my eyes
not because the strands
fell on my face,
but because who I would see
was not who I wanted to be.
As I heard his
weapon chop, and chop, and chop
I could just about hear my mother
with her usual 'I told you so'
telling me she knew it would be a flop.
As the intensity of the chopping
died down,
I mustered the courage
to open my eyes,
to see for myself the extent of damage.
My heart sank.
I wanted to run away.
I was living my worst nightmare.
I didn't look like a girl.
I couldn't look like a boy.
I looked alien
while the barber was full of joy.
My disgust soon turned to rage
as I decided not to pay his due wage.
I stormed out of the cursed place
as I thought I should.
The barber didn't try to stop me
though I knew he could.
What would become of me?
My dreams were dashed to the tee.
I wanted to pull out the little hair I had.
I wanted to flee.
OH! What would become of me?
The cynosure of all eyes
my hair would be.
The old and young behind my back,
why, in front of it too,
would snide, and sneer and snicker at me.
I would be the object
of laughter, amidst my kind.
The giggles,the guffaws,
they would laugh off their behind.
What a sorrowful end
to such a delightful beginning.
Perhaps you have a wig or two you could lend
to help me come out of hiding?