It’s just one of those awful days. The temperature is about 33ºC, humidity feels about a hundred percent, you had a lousy time in the office and got caught in a traffic jam.
You feel that if you don’t do something drastic you’ll go out of your mind.
The kids are sitting watching TV and all you hear from them is a bored “Hi Mum” as you get home. The kitchen sink is full of dirty dishes, there’s a pile of washing waiting to be folded, and you’re about to burst.
Something has to go!
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You go into your bedroom, undress, and stare at yourself in the mirror. Not bad for almost 40. Your figure’s still great, you’ve still got lovely skin, and your hair’s…
Your hair isn’t so great to tell the truth. It’s brown and dead straight, parted in the center and just hanging to your shoulders.
You’re so pissed off at the whole world, that you feel you could just chop it off, here and now.
“Hey, what do you mean: Just chop it off? What, do you want to be bald?”
Wow, the heat’s really getting to you.
Bald, You can’t really be serious.
A bald woman?
A bald wife?
Chuck would have a fit. Or would he? Often you see him staring at girls with very short hair. Maybe he’d like it.
“Now hold on there! You’re not really going to do this are you?”
“Well, what the hell? It’s my hair isn’t it?”
You pull all your hair back as tight as you can and try to imagine your self without it.
Maybe it would work.
“How would you go out of the house? How could you show up at PT meetings at school looking like G.I. Jane?”
Come to think of it, Chuck loves that movie. He must have seen the haircut scene at least a hundred times. Hmm.
And Demi Moore does look great in that cut.
Yeah, but you ain’t a movie star!
You find yourself taking Chuck’s clippers from his drawer. You stare at them.
You know how to use them of course. Once a month you clip Chuck. He can’t stand his hair if it gets long enough to comb.
You get another mirror from the bathroom.
For about five minutes you stand there just staring at the clippers in your hand. You flick the switch. They start buzzing. You jump and turn them off.
For God’s sake, the kids are home. What will they say?
Probably: “Cool Mum, what’s for dinner?”
You turn on the clippers. They have the number one guard that you use on Chuck. You know how short they cut.
You bring the clippers up to your forehead, and hold them an inch above your hair.
Do you really want to do this?
Are you crazy?
Stop being a wimp!
You take a deep breath, close your eyes, put the clippers firmly on the center of your forehead and push them back.
You can’t believe you’ve done this.
There’s a broad shaved patch right in the center of your hair.
“Well what the hell did you think would happen?”
Your heart is pounding in your chest.
You lift your finger and touch your new “hairstyle”. It’s like a soft pelt. You love the feeling.
Well, “In for a penny, in for a pound.” You can’t change your mind now.
You study your reflection. Where your center parting used to be, is a wide path of almost nothing. You can see the short hairs barely hiding your scalp. You’ve never seen your scalp, it looks so white. Your hair is about a millimeter long, if you really want to be bald it’s not really short enough. You decide to take the guard off. Why not, everyone will think you’re crazy anyway.
You turn the clippers on again and place the naked blades on your head. This time it’s much easier. Your heart’s still pounding like a hammer, but the die has already been cast, so you might as well enjoy the ride.
You stare at the bald path that’s left after the naked blade has done its work. This time there’s really no hair left. All you can see is white scalp. When you look closely you can just make out a dark fuzz where your hair used to be.
You start mowing off the hair on either side of the new ‘parting’.
You still can’t believe that you’re doing this. That bald girl in the mirror can’t really be you.
Within minutes the whole front half of your head is bare, and you’re standing in a huge pile of hair. You wonder how to do the back. You try holding the second mirror in one hand and the clippers in the other, but realize that you need another hand to lift your long nape hair, so you decide to work blind.
By feel alone, you start to lift the long strands, and working from the nape up, shave them off. It’s easier than you thought it would be.
Five minutes after you start, you’re done.
You stare at the reflection. Is this really you? You’re looking at a lovely face with huge eyes and a forehead that goes on forever. You’re relieved to see that your ears aren’t too big. You’re rather surprised at the shape of the bones that is now revealed. You thought that your skull was a round dome, instead you can see a kind of low ridge bisecting your head.
All of a sudden you realize what you’ve done. Your legs turn to rubber, and you slump down onto the bed. How are you going to go outside like this? What will your boss say? What will Chuck say? For God’s sake, what will your mother say? How could you do this to yourself?
You run your hands over your new hairstyle. You love the soft prickly feeling and anyway it’s too late to change your mind.
You head for the shower and turn the water on. You step into the cold stream and feel the water on your naked scalp, Wow what a feeling! Why didn’t anyone tell you about this?
You dry yourself, no need for a hair drier now, and you can throw your brushes away too, and rub baby oil into your scalp until it shines.
Now somehow you have to find courage to face the rest of the world.
To be continued…