The scissors began at the top of my ear, and then they went diagonally. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t look right. Suddenly, instead of looking like the girl from "Gossip Girl" I had described, I looked like Billy Ray Cyrus. How would I attract the guys of the seventh grade now? I wouldn’t, not even with my “achy breaky heart.”

At that moment, I realized what it was like to experience severe change. I mean, this haircut was atrocious, and there was nothing I could do about it. I sat in front of the mirror, wondering if there was a way I could style it to make it look decent. There wasn’t. I had to come to terms with the fact that for my first year in middle school, I’d be Mullet Girl. It was a tough transition, and I mean tough. The taunting was relentless. I still had to go to class every day and endure it.

I had to cope with my circumstances at the time. I couldn’t change what had happened to me, but I could change me. I became funnier. I developed a personality I would have never had if I hadn’t had a mullet.

I learned who my true friends are - friends I still have to this day, those who would love me even in the worst year of my life.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t hate my life that year. I cried endlessly about extensions, but my parents' wisdom prevailed. They promised me eventually it would grow out and I would be okay. I didn’t see it then, but one day I looked and it was normal again. With a mullet and any other trial, you can’t see the end. Everyone will tell you that one day you’ll be okay, and you’ll swear they’re wrong. They never are, though. Time makes everything okay again, and fortunately enough allows hair to grow.

Which brings me to my last lesson - I knew the scissors didn’t seem right, and I knew I probably trusted the wrong person. Even then, I let that haircut happen anyway. Sometimes in life, we trust the wrong people. We let things that don’t feel right continue on way past what they should. It hurts us more than it does them. We wear the mullet while they continue to cut hair. Although one day, you look back and their hair salon is out of business, and you’re writing with hair that flows beautifully down your back.