Tzara
Since I was a kid, I’ve always preferred long hair. It was something I never felt the need to change. In my teenage years, my parents gave me the freedom to choose my own hairstyle, so I always wore it long. I often received comments suggesting I should cut it, with some even saying long hair was “for girls,” but I didn’t let it bother me. My preference for long hair was only strengthened when I met my girlfriend in college, who loved my hair. She enjoyed playing with it and never wanted me to cut it. If it got too long, we’d visit her stylist to have it trimmed slightly, but I still kept it long. Ironically, she had a short bob, and during summer, she’d even shave the back of her neck with clippers.
We lived far from home, so I hadn’t met her parents yet. From her stories, I learned her mother was very strict about hair length. She’d worn a short bob with a shaved neck during the summer, just like my girlfriend. I was nervous about how she’d react to my long hair, so my girlfriend and I agreed that I’d get a haircut before our visit. I decided on a longer men’s cut, done with scissors, as I was nervous about clippers and didn’t want anything too short. I knew it was serious because my girlfriend’s bob was cut to lip level, and the back of her head was shaved completely, which made me feel uneasy since I’d never seen her with such a short haircut.
After the haircut, we packed up and headed out. The closer we got to their place, the more nervous I became, and I regretted not getting a shorter cut.
As soon as we arrived, I felt my stomach tighten. When my girlfriend opened the door, her mother—my mother-in-law—was standing there. I’ll never forget her first look. Her hair was cut exactly like my girlfriend’s, and I immediately understood why my girlfriend had gotten hers cut so short before our visit. My mother-in-law’s eyes landed on my hair, and it was clear she wasn’t happy. She didn’t hold back during the introductions, sternly asking my girlfriend, “Don’t you have a barber? Or can’t you cut it properly yourself?!” My heart raced, and I felt like my hair was all she cared about.
Then I met her father and brother, and their haircuts confirmed it: long hair was not welcome in this family. Both of them had shaved sides and short buzzcuts with longer bangs. Their haircuts were fresh, so it was clear they’d been cut recently.
During lunch, I noticed my mother-in-law kept glancing at my hair, almost as if she wasn’t listening to anything else. Then, by chance, I looked out the window and realized why their hair looked so fresh: my mother-in-law had cut it herself at home. There was a barber chair on the terrace, and under it was a pile of hair. My girlfriend seemed nervous when she noticed that the chair hadn’t been cleaned, which meant one thing—the haircut wasn’t finished yet.
“You’re not going to walk around with this in the summer, are you? We’ll trim it. Into your underwear and let’s head out to the terrace,” my mother-in-law said, leaving no room for discussion. From the look on my girlfriend’s face, I knew there was no turning back. My knees started to shake. I glanced at their haircuts again and, before I knew it, I heard my mother-in-law’s stern voice: “Are you going to sit there or what?!”
Nervously, I stripped down to my underwear and headed to the terrace, where my mother-in-law was waiting with clippers, no guard attached.
“I don’t have a barber’s cape, so I don’t want hair all over your clothes,” she said as I took a seat. I tried to explain my preference for longer hair, but she barely listened. “Don’t worry, I’ll trim you up nice for the summer,” she said, and with that, she forced my head down, nearly touching my chest. Without warning, she turned on the clippers and placed them at the back of my neck.
Before I could react, I felt the cold metal of the clippers moving through my hair, up toward the top of my head. I could feel my long hair falling away, and I nearly jumped out of the chair, but she held my head firmly, ensuring I couldn’t move. The clippers buzzed on, taking large chunks of hair with each pass. I could feel the sides and back being shaved all the way down to the skin, just like my girlfriend’s father and brother.
The sensation was strange. She kept going, shaping the sides until they were perfectly shaved. After a few minutes, the buzzing stopped. I foolishly thought it was over, but soon, she attached a number 2 guard and resumed, now cutting the top shorter, just like her family’s style, leaving the front with longer bangs. She carefully trimmed the bangs with scissors and sprayed them down to make sure they were even. I felt completely humiliated, sitting there in my underwear, my hair cut however she pleased.
To my surprise, she wasn’t done. She applied shaving foam around my neck and ears and shaved everything clean, paying close attention to detail. Then, she brushed off the cut hair from my neck, face, and shoulders. “Go wash that off in the shower so you don’t get hair all over yourself,” she ordered. I did as she said, heading straight for the bathroom.
In the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The sides of my head were completely shaved, and I had a short buzzcut on top with longer bangs in front. I felt awful, unsure of what anyone would think if they saw me like this. In the shower, I couldn’t help but touch the smooth skin of my freshly shaved head. It was strange—while I hated the haircut, I couldn’t stop feeling it. When I finished, I realized how easy it was to take care of such short hair—it dried almost instantly.
When I returned from the shower, my mother-in-law called me over for a few final adjustments. She dampened my bangs, trimmed them to perfection, and even applied a masculine aftershave balm around my neck. My girlfriend, noticing my discomfort, immediately apologized, saying she had no idea her mother would do this to me. I was still getting used to the change, but I also started to appreciate how practical it was. My girlfriend even started to like it, often touching the freshly shaved back of my neck.
By the time we were about to leave, my mother-in-law gave me another trim to keep it fresh. Before we said goodbye, she made sure my bangs were perfectly styled. As a parting gift, my girlfriend gave me a barber set to keep up with the family tradition. Since then, my girlfriend has maintained the style, and every summer, I look forward to the haircut on the terrace.
