How do I Cut It?

How do I Cut It?

“How Do I Cut It?” By [email protected]

No Sally I am not a lesbian. But I am tempted into Bi – like many of my class – but I’ve a regular boyfriend who I adore usually. Mike is from Wisconsin and majoring in Law. He is a bit ‘right’ in his views, particularly on women and lesbians. He came over to a friend’s place and I was so pissed at him. He has this attitude that he is a real stud and that I’ll be blown over by his irresistible sex. We were arguing all day and I stormed out and went to study with another friend until around five, when I had an appointment – I was going to the barbers on campus for a trim. I knew you’d like to hear this! My hair is very thick, wildly curly, red, down my back, and Mike loves to roll around in it – he says its very feminine. The barber shop only charges us $6 so a lot of us use it. Otherwise, my hair gets too wild, without having just the ends cut regularly. Mike was walking in the lot when I got there and he started again telling me what to do and to come home with him. I ignored him and went in to the barber shop. He was looking at me through the window mouthing his orders still and the guy asked me what was going on. It was empty because it was late so I put on the gown and sat down. I was cross at Mike, and a real stupid idea came to me and I quickly explained to the barber about our fight. I told the stylist I wanted to give ‘his highness’ a scare, and asked him to pick up the set of clippers that were laying on the counter top, and to pretend that I was asking him to cut my hair with them! The barber caught on to what was up, smiled, and with dramatic flair picked up the shears and nodded in my direction. I nodded back, but actually asked him to turn the chair a little so I could see Mike’s reflection in the mirror. The stylist complied, and then, playing the act to the hilt, lifted up the longest of the clipper combs and showed it to me up close. I returned the motion, but really peered out of the corner of my eye at what Mike was doing outside. It was a sight to behold! His first reaction, when he had first seen the barber pick up the shears, was to go white as a ghost! He was completely blown away, and ALL the blood dropped out of his face! For a few brief seconds I laughed inside at this blatant loss of macho control, but then grew angry again when he regained his composure. The fear had passed, and there was that old smug, arrogant smile, back in place. He KNEW I was bluffing! I was REALLY ticked now, and was getting awful close to actually asking the barber to use those clippers! I turned back to look at myself in the mirror. The barber commented softly that he didn’t think my plan was working too well, and asked if I wanted to keep the act going. I looked over at Mike, told the stylist yes, and asked him to offer me one of the shorter combs instead! He grinned, and we continued the charade. The problem was, was it really a charade? My growing resentment, and our little playacting with the clipper and combs, had me wondering if I didn’t really want to do it! Mike had me really, really angry! It’d serve him right! But what did I want? The answer to that idea was only slowly taking shape…

I continued to muse on the idea of really going for it, as I went through the motions with the barber. He offered me the next shorter comb, I looked at it a second, then asked for one two sizes shorter. He lifted that, I examined it for some time, we compared notes in our imaginary exchange (actually, we were discussing Mike’s reactions to all the goings on!), and then I signalled I wanted the shortest comb of all! The barber lifted it, almost reverentially, and offered it to me. I examined it very briefly, then informed him that was the one I wanted! He made quite a scene out of slowly placing the comb on the clippers and preparing the shears for the cut… Well, it had come down to it! It was either cave in, ask the barber to stop, and then deal with Mike’s condescending attitude over my backing down, or go for having at least some of my hair cut with those clippers! Time stood absolutely still for me at that second, Sal! There it was – Mike’s cruel smile in the mirror, the barber, shears in hand, waiting for me to signal him to stop pretending, and me, for the first time realizing that a big part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind and have him turn those clippers loose in my hair! My insides felt shaky, and my throat and mouth were dry! And I could feel the goose – bumps on the back of my neck! My eyes, seeming to be the only part of the universe that still operated normally, took a long, slow look – up from my shaking hands, over to the clippers, back to Mike’s grin, and then finally to my own reflection. I looked at my hair, noticing it really for the first time, and then, quite suddenly, my mind was made up! “Do it!” I told the barber. “I want to do it for REAL!” I told him.

The barber looked at me hard, then said “Are you SURE?” He sensed the anger and desire in my voice, and was reacting to it.

“Yes!” The word was final, decisive. To hell with Mike! My hair will grow back! “I really want you to shave my hair with those clippers!”

The barber understood. He flipped on the shears (they were SO loud!), then gently lifted my bangs back away from my forehead. He raised the clippers, but hesitated for a second, with the comb attachment just about to slip into my tresses. He was giving me a last second to back out. I looked over at Mike’s reflection – he was definitely nervous, though covering it well – and that settled it for me! I didn’t signal the barber to stop, and in a second he gently pushed the clippers forward! My heart skipped a beat as I watched my reflection in the mirror! The clippers changed their rhythm as they encountered my curly mane, but kept on humming as the stylist slowly pushed them back over my head! A massive red wave of curls piled up in front of the shears, until the shears reached the top of my head when the mass of tresses fell off in one big bushel – down off my shoulder and into my lap! There was a swath of close-cropped red running from the front to the back of my head!! I gasped! Then, just as quickly, I looked over at Mike! Victory was mine! He had melted like soft butter on a warm plate! His eyes were hollow sockets in his head, and his face was pressed up against the glass. I wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to faint right there! He was utterly mesmerized – having made up his mind that I would back down, he now had to face the one fact that he couldn’t handle – that he’d been wrong! I relished that experience, I can tell you! But that was just one victory! What about what was happening to my head!! I turned back and watched the barber slip the clippers into my bangs again, watched the hair pile up, then watched the bushy mass fall off and join its companion in my lap! I suddenly relaxed, and I knew I’d won both battles this day! Mike was in pieces, and I was actually loving the experience of having my hair shaved away! I was transfixed by those clippers, and watched every move as the barber raised them to my head, gently ran the buzzing edges through my hair, and then watched my mane tumble down! It was great! He finished off the top (I looked SO different), and then started to shave off the right side. I felt and heard the shears work around my ear, and I watched tuft after tuft of soft curls peel away from my scalp! He kept on going, pushing my head forward to shear the back, then tilting my head so he could continue around the left side. The clippers hummed triumphantly as the last of my mane fell off!! The barber ran the clippers over my head several times, to make sure it was all even, and then clicked off the clippers, and asked me what I thought. I told him it was the best haircut I’d ever gotten, paid him, (tipping him handsomely), then reached down and picked up a huge mass of red curls from the floor. I reached up and rubbed my soft, fuzzy crown with my free hand, and smiled hugely in the mirror. Then I turned and headed for the door. On my way out I stopped by Mike, handed him the bushel of hair, and told him he could have it – as a pleasant memory, and walked calmly and serenely on!…

The End


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