My Future MIL Secretly Paid a Stylist $1000 to Butcher My Hair Before My Wedding – She Had No Idea Who She Was Dealing With

he big mirror.

I frowned. “Could I maybe face the mirror?”

“No peeking,” she said cheerfully.

“Transformation time.”

I glanced at Elaine, already reclining for a facial.

“Oh, relax, dear,” Elaine said. “Trust the professionals for once.”

I swallowed my discomfort and sat still.

Marlene combed out my hair—mid-back, thick, one of the few things I really liked about my appearance. She sectioned it, clipped it up.

We made small talk.

When I said I was a waitress, she gave that tight little smile.

“On your feet all day,” she said. “Exhausting.”

Like it was cute, not respectable.

Then I heard scissors.

At first, soft, normal snips. Then there was this heavy sound.

CHUNK.

I felt something slide down my back and hit the floor.

My stomach clenched.

“What was that?”

“Relax,” Marlene said. “Trust the process.”

I leaned just enough to see the ground.

A thick, long braid of my hair lay on the floor. Ten inches at least.

Gone.

“STOP!” I yelped, trying to stand.

Marlene’s hands pressed down on my shoulders. “Do not move—you’ll ruin the line.”

“Elaine!” I called. “She cut off my hair!”

Elaine’s voice floated over, bored.

“What’s going on?”Continue reading…