Bad Haircuts and 2026 Resolutions

A few weeks before 2025 ended, I was in desperate need of a haircut. I was in a rush, and seeing as I was going to be flying out of the country in a few days to visit family, I booked an appointment with a local barber as soon as I could (i.e., not with my usual barber—love you RJ). I was in a vulnerable spot at that time in my life, juggling school, work, messy breakups, and professional responsibilities, so I just needed something to freshen me up a bit.

As soon as I walked into that barber shop, I felt something was wrong. It felt like the furniture, the walls, and the windows of the shop grew eyes and a cartoonish mouth yelling at me to run. The barber seemed like he was already in a bad mood as he graced my reference photo with a two-second, half-hearted glance and a disingenuous thumbs up. Then, by the time he was already manhandling my head with the enthusiasm of a disgruntled teenager scraping gum from under a table, I found myself despairingly making excuses in my head. Maybe this is just his process. It’ll be fine, stop panicking. Don’t be so quick to judge, I thought to myself.

But I guess whatever karmic debt I accrued during 2025, I subsequently cashed in as I went into 2026 with the worst twist of fate possible: I got the absolute worst haircut I have ever received in my life. So bad in fact that the barber straight up clipped off a piece of my eyebrow with the razor… eyebrow! I had to visit family (who, mind you, I hadn’t seen in 4 years) with one and a half eyebrows and a haircut that looked as if Justin Bieber was enlisted in the military. 

Suffice to say, I was angry. Angry at the barber, who was at best having a bad day. Angry at the nonchalant receptionist who looked me dead in the eye as I was crying and had the nerve to ask me for a tip. But most of all, I was angry at myself. Maybe it’s hindsight bias, but it doesn’t change the fact that I forced myself to sit through something I knew wasn’t right from the jump. 

Like most people, my relationship with my hair is complicated. It’s thick and voluminous, black and wavy. Fun fact: my mom, sister, and I all have the same hair thanks to my mom’s strong hair genetics. It’s a defining feature between the three of us that makes me feel extremely connected to them. That being said, those genetics do have their downsides. For one, my hair is so voluminous that it tends to fall into my face. Without any product, it could lean into bowlcut territory, which I do not have the bone structure for. At the barbershop, I have to thin out my hair every time to get a more textured look without making me look like a bobblehead. Even then, my hair, much like me, is stubborn as all hell. I love my hair, but for most of my life, it has been a major insecurity of mine. I always compared myself to the TikTok guys and gutted whatever confidence I had about my hair with their advice. Weirdly, I always felt like my hair was growing out of my head wrong, despite how much I loved my hair.

That was until this God-foresaken haircut. 

In those few weeks going into the new year, I noticed something. I missed my thick, voluminous, stubborn hair. The same hair I had found myself cursing for most of my life, I found myself desperate for it to come back. I felt stupid.

And the only reason it was gone in the first place was because I didn’t advocate for myself. There was a voice in my head telling me not to go through with the haircut, but instead, I made excuses for an evil barber just for him to take my dignity (and half my eyebrow) away with his razor. 

In the end, the problem wasn’t my hair; it was how I felt about it. I was so insecure that I didn’t accept my hair for anything less than perfect. I was so desperate to maintain my vanity that I ended up losing it at an extremely vulnerable time in my life. It sucked. However, it did force me to really look at myself in the mirror and see every feature I didn’t appreciate enough.

So going into 2026, I want to make it a point to really appreciate what you have and what makes you beautiful, even if it’s not perfect. For me, it’s my high-maintenance, stubborn, thick hair that my mother blessed me with. Maybe all of its imperfections are just a reminder of my heritage and where I come from. It’s not like I have to be secure about my hair all of a sudden, but 2026 should be about never losing sight of the bigger picture. My hair might not be perfect, but it’s mine. And in 2026, I’m choosing to accept how it grows out of my head.

Also, note to self, never cheat on your barber ever again.

Strike Out,

Erick Matosinho

Edited By: Olivia Wagner & Arsheeya Garg

Erick Matosinho is a Staff Writer for Strike Magazine Orlando. A senior at UCF majoring in Business Communications with a minor in Writing and Rhetoric and a Brazilian Studies certificate, Erick blends his passion for storytelling and creating with his Brazilian-American background. Beyond writing, he loves to model, swim, and drink coffee! Anything that will help him with his aspirations to change the world… or become a stay-at-home novelist who knows. You can connect with him on Instagram @_erixk.m_ or through his email matosinhoerick.irms@gmail.com