My Haircut, Friday 11th

MY HAIRCUT, FRIDAY 11th.

On Friday the 11th. I finished work early, and took a half day off. On the way back to home I ‘suffered’ one of my intense urges to get my head clippered.

As the flea market on the 17/92 opens Fri, Sat & Sunday I knew my Barber would be there, in his stall. ( He only works the market as he owns several other hairdressing shops.) So, knowing that it was really another week before I was “due” for a trim, I decided to go in and get one anyway.

His first words were; “You’re early ! It’s not been 3 weeks!” in a very cross voice. “Hey!,” I replied with a smile :” it’s good for trade .. besides that last one grew out too quick.”

I sat in the chair and he pumped it higher and wrapped a light blue cutting sheet around me, then from a dispenser he tore off a white strip of paper and tucked that in tightly around my neck. I sat still, savoring what was about to happen, the smells and noises of the other barbers at work, and was thrilled more than a little at his cross face.

As I had been to work (and was still wearing my pale blue Burdines suit, a white blouse and court shoes), my hair was in my “professional” style. I dry it coming forward so it is flat to my head, with bags of Aussie gel and then break up the little short bangs into a sort of Pixie style, albeit, a very short one!

“I’ll have to wet it down,” he said, picking up a spray bottle of water. “Is that how you want it cut, or do you want your longish flat top?” My heart was fluttering, I could see he was a bit put out by me today, usually I get the feeling he is enjoying himself (of course, not as much as me!!). I was tempted to goad him a little (I had once before and he nearly shaved me bald!) and hesitated a while.

“Well?” he demanded. I thought, with a delicious thrill of terror and anticipation, why not .. and in the same tone as he used said, “No, I want a real flat top today.”

I wanted to take it back immediately, just the look on his face was enough but he went on to say:

“Oh really? Do you know when I give a real flat top I shave it close here?” and he placed his hand on the back of my head on the crown “I have to do that to get the height at the front, I usually give you what we used to call a semi-crew”.

Semi-crewcutgal??!!! Oh no, not that!!

I went for it, but my loins were cold and clenched, “.. that’s fine” I smiled sweetly, and I grew excited.

(Perhaps, as the result of a lot of questions from other friends that I sent the first part of this narrative of Friday’s hair cut to, I should explain something… these days, since buzzed haircuts for men and women have come back into fashion, the word “shave” does not automatically mean bald, razor shaved.

It is used even by ladies’ hairdressers to mean clippered with electric clippers. The clippers can shave ..down to a bristle, like my neck and around my ears,.. but, with guides that snap on (mostly Ladies’ Hairdressers use these) or by having longer metal cutting heads, (as in my barbers) can also crop off automatically even to as long as 1/2″.

When my barber said the other day that he would have to “shave” the back of my head, up above the bump of my skull and over my crown, he could have meant using the clippers with a guide to leave as much as a 1/2″ of hair there.

He didn’t, but that’s another story!!!)

Perhaps I had better describe how he usually cuts my hair, so you know why, and what, has so excited me about last Friday’s? His usual way (what he now tells me is a SEMI-Crew-Cut!!) is to use a comb and clipper, except for the nape and hairline around my ears, where he just shaves away with clipper with tiny .00 gauge teeth. (..yes, I did notice that!!).

He sometimes uses a bigger clipper – I LOVE the noise those big ones make, a humming clattering and ringing!! – but again, cutting the hair off, through the teeth of a comb. The comb itself is special, it starts out about 1 1/2″ wide at one end, with teeth that are quite thick and widely spaced, going down to about 1/2″ wide at the other with teeth so fine they scratch.

(Like those dreadful head lice combs you see for sale in the Pharmacists!!)

So, usually, he starts by cutting the top, which is by the time I generally go back to him, starting to grow forwards in a persistent cowlick.

He puts his fingers on my head, under the comb and as the hair sticks up through the teeth of the comb he runs the clipper across the top. It makes a funny noise, the plastic teeth getting rasped by the metal ones of the clipper. The hair always falls all over my face and breasts, and he ALWAYS blows it off with a hair-dryer! Sometimes he spray-wets the back and sides, sometime he clippers my neck and around my hairline dry. (This latter I prefer, it makes for coarser bristles and sounds brutally loud!!!) He has always, up until I upset him, used the special comb, tipping it to blend in the sides and back, with the finest teeth closest to my hairline.

For reasons I do not understand, the finer teeth give a shorter cut than the bigger spaced teeth, so I usually have tapered and graduated sides, and a gradually longer taper up towards my crown in back.

The finished style is around 3/4″ at the very front, almost long enough to curl over and under a bit, with the flat-top gradually going back and down to about 1/2″ over my crown. It’s generally short enough so that if I bend down you can see through the crew to my pink scalp underneath.

The back gets thicker and the graduation or taper gets to be about a 1/4 ” longer that the top at the back of the crown, and is actually shaved to the scalp at the bottom on my nape.

One of the reasons that I go on a Friday or Saturday is that USUALLY my hair will gel flat, in a sort of a short ‘pixie’ on the 2nd. day or so, so I don’t have to wear my wig to work ..unless he has cut it badly (sometimes he gets careless with the clipper.) Once before, again when I had goaded him on a bit, he cut it so short and badly that I cried for days, wore my wig for a month (it’s a Blond Sassoon bob style) and all my friends online (Q-Link then) persuaded me just to fantasize in future. Of course, that didn’t last .. I started going back, started getting more and more excited, and then this time ……

He did not hesitate. Picking up the really big clippers he switched them on and moved to the back of my head, rather roughly he pushed my head down so far onto my chest I got double chins, then, arching his left hand on the very top of my head to keep me still, he placed the steel head of the clipper on my nape.

I had only seen him use these clippers once before, when he had a couple of ‘boots’ in from the Orlando Naval Training School. They must have been shopping in the market and decided to buy a haircut from a civilian barber rather than the base .. probably thought it would be longer ! I had watched him peel the pair of them bald at the back and sides, and leave a stubbly crew on top. What one of my boyfriends (from the base) called a marine “high ‘n’ tight” style.

Now, he was using them on me …!!!!!!!

I felt them rasping on my neck, they seemed so noisy and harsh compared to the ones he usually used on me. I shuddered with, I must admit, pure pleasure at their brutal chattering. He switched them off and said; “What’s up? Changed yer mind ?” (he still kept my head pushed down though, so my reply was muffled).

“NO! They were cold, that’s all.” (They were too .. at first).

He grunted and the chattering, almost ringing, buzz began again, and I held my breath in anticipation.

It has been over three weeks since this haircut, but even now, as I actually try to describe it, I am panting, excited and full of that delicious mix of apprehension and exited anticipation you get when a guy you really fancy starts to ‘come on’ to you, or when you watch a good horror movie. I have just had to get up and go look in the mirror and feel my head .. !! (This is also why my friends have had to wait so long for the rest of my letter this time!!)

The clippers were pushing and hard on my neck, and they were nibbling and purring up the back of my head, a little to the right of center. With bated breath I felt him run them up, up into that dimple we have in our necks, under the bump of the skull. He kept them flat on my scalp. I was waiting for them to make that ‘NNuung!” sound they do when they pull away and taper the cutting line, usually followed by a whisper of falling hair. They just kept buzzing, ringing, chattering and climbing!

Now my loins were locked, my breath still inhaled, my palms wet.

He shoved the teeth deeply into the line of hair that is usually where he tapers off, and I felt the purr up and OVER the bump in my skull. I did let go my breath then.. in a gasp! He kept shaving higher! I felt the clipper head pass over the bump, up past the top of my ears !! Oh God!! I remember.

The teeth of these monsters were their own guides .. I was to see (and feel!) later that they cropped to barely more than a bristle that just, barely, peeped through the scalp. He pushed them higher. Now I was terrified .. growing hot and excited but with cold knotted stomach too. What would it look like? Would people laugh, point and stare? Was I going to have to wear my wig for weeks again? (The answer was yes!).

I felt them turn, but not AWAY from my head, but across it, up on the curve that leads to our crowns. As they did so a cascade of clumpy blonde hair fell over my right ear and onto my blue sheathed breast. I could not move my head (he still held it firmly down) but from the corner of my eye I saw the length and amount of the cropped off hair .. my toes wriggled !!

It seemed about all I had on my head when I came in!

The last time he had REALLY clippered all my hair off, like a little boy’s, I was full of tears before I left the shop. This time I was LOVING it! I even pushed back a little, nuzzling into the clippers’ shearing rape of my head.

He turned the head at the very top of my crown and then.. started shearing away at the actual top of my head!!! Now hair was fluttering down over my ears, shoulders and even into my mouth and eyelashes. OOoooh I am remembering!!

Finally, the lift off taper movement, with the “NNunng!” as they bit air instead of my hair. He still kept me firmly pushed down, and restarted the shearing at the left. My toes were wriggling, my thighs beginning to clamp open and shut and I was itchy !! (Itching to look up and see too!).

The shaving of this swatch did not take long, I suppose because he had turned the clipper and run them across the back of the skull’s curve and only had to peel off the hair on my neck. He pushed down with his hand and buzzed them up the back again several times, but very quickly, seeming to just be ensuring every hair was the same length. Then he switched them off, released my head (boing!!) and stepped around to get his brush. My eyes shot up as soon as my neck straightened, and …. of course, nothing looked different at the front!!

I sat still, breathing more than a little fast, as he flicked and tickled away the mounds of cropped hair from my neck and shoulders. Swisher – Swisher went the long haired brush, around my neck and ears .. I could feel EVERY bristle .. and the air blew so very cool on my head. I was dying to see the back, I knew it was clippered nearly bald, and wanted so very badly to feel the stinging scalp and sharp bristles. However, I had to sit very still and try and control myself, as I was getting rather more ‘excited’ than usual, and I thought it was beginning to show. I looked in the mirror -I certainly had color in my cheeks, and my ear tips were bright red!

I knew I would actually see (as well as feel) the next bit and he switched his red monster machine on again and tossed the clipping brush onto the counter top.

Once again he arched his left hand in a bridge on top of my head, and tilted my head to the right. My eyes were locked on the clippers in the mirror, and I was wishing I could move closer to see more clearly the teeth of the clipper as they buzzed and peeled away behind my ear. It was HIGH!!! He did not pull them away from my scalp until the top of my head !!

NEVER had it cut like this before. I was suddenly blushing furiously.

I had a very distinct impression he was going to really shave me, to ‘teach me a lesson’ or because he was mad at me, or.. perhaps he enjoyed it??

The next run up I could see very clearly (if at a tilted angle!) he was shaving the sides totally flat to about 1/8″ long at the TOP!! .. nothing but pink scalp at my hairline. I struggled to keep control as the clipper purred and nibbled around my left ear. He placed them on my cheek, in front of the ear and peeled away the sideburn, up above my ear lobe, up to the level of my eyebrow before he tapered away (NNung! very loud near my ear). Hair flopped off the clotted clipper head’s teeth onto my shoulder, and pulling on the cord he moved around me to the other side. Now I was seeing…my ear stuck out, shining pinkly, the 2 studs glistening, the tan line around my hairline showing clearly white against my cheek. I had to gasp out aloud. I caught his eyes in the mirror, his eyebrows raised in query??

“Wow,” I said, rather feebly. “That is short!”. He just grunted and starting right away with my little triangle of hair on my cheek, sheared up my head. He tilted me over to the left, and the clippers rasped and chattered up my head twice more. Then silence.

I stared at the clumpy mass of my still damp hair on top of my round head, seemingly higher as it was unsupported by any tapered bulk underneath. My ears were sticking out! There was no hair at all on my cheek, a slight bristly gold down around my ears then, finally(!) a line of bristles at my temple that merged up into the mop of hair on top of my clippered head… (at just 3/4″ it seemed like that!!)

He had picked up a blue plastic brush that was round, had a loop that went over his knuckles and the spray bottle again. As he sent a mist of water over my head I imagined a sizzle as it cooled my burning ears and face. I saw that a small crowd had gathered behind me, an older couple but one guy with bright eyes and 2 high school girls looking aghast. Good! Made me an even better contrast with their tangle gelled ‘big hair’.

The brush was stiff, plastic teeth more than bristles and he pounded away at my hair on top. When he moved away from the mirror to get the dryer I saw an erected slab of hair, a true crew cut, but with sides longer and higher than the middle. This was caused I realized with another warm rush to my loins, by the fact that he had clippered the top, over the crown, down to a mere bristle.

As I looked up into the mirror I could see nothing but my pink scalp sprinkled with a gold dusting of stubble.

The hot air of the dryer heated my scalp as he brushed my top hair up. Then he turned off the dryer and, blocking my view with his back, rummaged in his tools. He turned round with a cordless trimmer that he uses to shave off my neck, and took my face into his left hand, cupping my chin.

I was confused, was he going to shave me bald, I could not meet his eyes, and was wondering if this was a gesture of affection when the trimmer started it’s high pitched hum. I flicked my eyes up at his face, he was gazing into the top of my head. “Still.” he said. I was!!

They muttered across the top of my head and I felt the cropped hairs flutter and tickle onto my bare forehead. The stingy buzzing (after the Big Red Monsters) was only just audible, .. the clatter of hair being clippered was louder. He puffed away some hair from the top .. I froze, I could FEEL his breath on my scalp .. on top!!!!

“There you are then,” he said, and moved the clipper to my cheek, shaving away the down around my ear in a movement I recognized as the final tidy up process.. I was staring at his black tee shirt as he did both ears and sides from the front, “a real flat top!”.

As he shaved my nape and then blew away the cropped off blond bristles with the dryer I sat motionless staring in the mirror. I was not quite believing, yet, that I had actually had it done. I was certainly not yet seeing it clearly.

I was panicked! My hair was gone, a small field of an erect gold brush was on top of my head, my scalp shining pinkly through and between each hair. Severely flat both across my head, from left to right, and, as I saw when he held up the mirror to show me the bald shaved back, from front to crown.

He whisked off the cutting sheet, spilling tiny clipped clumps of bristles into the mound of dark, dull hair around the chair.

He pulled out the swatch of paper from the collar of my blouse and set the clipping brush (Swisher – Swisher) flicking around my neck. The girls shrieked an “Aw my Gawddd!” and he grinned at me in the mirror.

I put up my hand as I sat up and slid forward in his chair, my cool fingers burned on my shaved neck and rasped on the sharp stubble. I bent my head forward (as I am doing now!) and looked up through my lashes into my scalp. When I turned my head I saw a clean shaved line up around my ears, level with my temple and so shining white in contrast to the tan on my face, head and neck.

Trembling I stood up, my knees jerking and unsteady. I paid and left.

 

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