11 Hours and 19 Minutes

11 hours and 19 minutes…

It’s certainly a random and arbitrary amount of time to bring up, and in different cases it can mean a world of different things.

It’s roughly the length of a very long work day, the length of an entire Netflix series, the length of time you spend working on a massive do-it-yourself home project.

But as I woke up on a seemingly normal and inconspicuous Saturday morning, 11 hours and 19 minutes was a big deal, and I had no idea why at the time. Because as I woke up at 8:14 AM to the sun being filtered through my long, silky, strawberry-blond hair that hung in my face, I was 11 hours and 19 minutes away from shaving my head.

It’s hard to point out PRECISELY when this all went so wrong, but when I woke up that morning I didn’t have a CLUE that I had unwittingly begun the long chain of events that would eventually lead to me losing my beautiful hair.

I had planned to sleep in since it was Saturday and my shift at the coffee shop didn’t start until 1, but my weekly routine of waking up no later than 6 AM every morning for classes forced me to wake up at 8:14. I hopped in the shower and shut my eyes as the hot water ran over me, loving the sensation of how water turned my silky mass of long hair into a wet mess to be shampooed and conditioned. After washing my body and my hair, I stepped out of the shower and began getting ready for the day, putting on makeup and drying my hair before putting it up in my massive signature ponytail, then went to my bedroom to pick out something to wear.

I felt very 80s-ish today, so I picked out a colorful and playful ensemble of a bright purply one-shoulder tank-top and a teal pleated skirt with matching leggings. It was a light, airy outfit, one that would be comfortable to wear to work later. At 23, I liked what I saw, a pretty, petite young woman with a great 5’6” body, brilliant green eyes, perky C-breasts that bordered on Ds, and an open, friendly face that was currently wearing a look between happy and tired. I had long, smooth legs, and soft, shiny, strawberry-blond hair spilled down my back all the way to where the bottom of my shapely butt met my smooth thighs. My hair was a beautiful shade of red-gold, and I had spent the last 4 years growing it out from shoulder-length to the long, wonderful mass of smooth, shining silk that it was now.

But as I looked at myself in my outfit, something didn’t seem… right about it. Then I realized how much cuter this outfit would look with my hair down. I reached up and removed the silk hair-tie holding my long red-gold mane in place, and as it spilled down around me I realized that I needed to do this more often. I had lovingly spent the last 4 years working hard to grow it out to this gorgeous length, and yet almost every day I put it up in a ponytail, a hastily wrapped bun, or occasionally, a French braid. I needed to enjoy it dammit! So as I let it down and spread it around me like a curtain of soft, shining silk, I made a resolution that I would start wearing it down more, starting today.

I headed back to the kitchen and sat down to some breakfast right as my roommate Janet walked through the door. I smiled up at her and she smiled back, then did a double take and her smile broadened when she saw my hair.

“Well, well, well,” she said as she walked over to me, “does someone have a date today?”

I shook my head with a smile, my long hair swishing softly with the movement.

“Nope,” I said, between bites of cereal, “just wanted to do something different today.”

“Well it’s about time girl,” Janet said as she made her way over to me, “but I have GOT to teach you how to wear it RIGHT.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I looked down at my hair, “I thought you said you LIKED my hair, and I should wear it down more.”

“I love your hair,” Janet said as she came up behind me and began stroking it, “and that’s part of the problem. You have the most beautiful hair and no idea of just how good you have it.”

“Sure I do,” I said, a tiny bit defensively, “I’m wearing it down now, aren’t I?”

“That’s just it Nats, there’s wearing it down, and there’s wearing it down,” she said as she picked up a brush from one of her drawers and made her way over to me, “let me show you.”

Janet was going through beauty school, so she spent 10 minutes with the brush re-parting my hair, fluffing it up, and making it really pop, all with nothing more than her brush and a touch of mousse. I sat there and watched her work, observing how she sectioned off large sheafs of the shimmering, red-gold silk that covered my head with her comb, then fluffed up another section, then smoothed it out.

After a short time I sat there running my fingers through my long, glossy, red-gold tresses, marveling at how so little work managed to make it look so much better. My hair now looked sleeker, healthier, shinier, and had much more natural volume and sheen. It was beautiful!

“Wow Janet, you’re a natural!” I said as I looked at my off-center parting in the mirror, “you seriously have a gift.”

“I know,” she said with just the slightest hint of comedic smugness, “start wearing your hair down more and I’ll show you how to do it yourself.”

“It’s a deal,” I said with a smile as I stood up to put away my dishes, “I’m planning on wearing my hair down a lot more after today.”

“Good decision hun,” Janet said as she walked towards her room, “I greatly look forward to playing with it when you do.”

We didn’t know it at the time, but my newfound love for my hair was one of the biggest things that would end up leading to its demise.

I got to the coffee shop and started my shift at 4, which left me with barely three and a half hours left with my hair, and still not the slightest hint about what was in store for it.

“I am LOVING the hair Natalie,” my coworker Helen said as she walked by and gently ran her fingers affectionately through it, “you should do it more often.”

“I plan on it,” I said with a smile as I finished pouring steamed milk into a latte, “I’VE GOT A CARAMEL LATTE FOR MICHAEL!”

As the customer came up to grab his drink, my other co-worker Lisa walked up to Helen and handed her a crisp 100 dollar bill, which Helen took with a smile.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“I bet her she wouldn’t go skydiving,” Lisa said, “and she did.”

“Whoa!” I said, turning to Helen, “that’s AWESOME! Wish I could do something like that!”

“You can Natalie,” Helen said with mischievous smile, “you just gotta try crazy stuff once in a while to feel alive.”

I thought about that for a second, then went back to working.

My night shift that evening started at 4 rather than 1 because that night we were hosting a charity event for one of our regulars. The charity was to raise money for cancer awareness, and several men were going to be shaving their heads to raise funds. They came in at 5 to set up the event, and Rich, the coordinator, came up to talk to me about where we wanted them to set up.

“Um….” I said as I leaned over the counter to point out where they should set up, my long hair flowing over my shoulders and spilling onto the counter like a shimmering puddle of red-gold silk, “over there in the corner would be your best bet. You should be able to fit all the seats there.”

“Wow, I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Rich said, gazing at my long hair, “you should join the event, I bet you could raise a LOT of money for it.”

I laughed out loud and covered my mouth, then shook my head.

“Good try, but no,” I said with a smile, “I’m sure I’d feel great about it, but I love my hair.”

“Well, I had to try,” Rich said with a smile, then he turned to begin setting up. They finished setting up and the event began around 5:41, and when it did, my hair had 2 hours and 52 minutes left on this Earth.

The moment that sealed the end for my beautiful hair happened at 6:24 PM, just 69 minutes before the blades met my hair.

I was walking a drink to one of the contestants when I heard Rich stop his congratulatory speech and call me by name.

“Natalie! Natalie! Can you come here for a moment?” he asked, “I’ve got something huge I want to ask you.”

I shrugged and walked up to the sound of applause, and he spun me around so my hair was facing the crowd.

“Natalie is one of the managers at this establishment and I asked her to join us on this adventure,” he said, and I felt my heart drop at what I knew was coming, “she said no, but I want you all to put your hands together and see if we can change her mind.”

The request was met with thunderous applause, and while I initially wanted to run off the stage, I heard Helen’s voice in my head, repeating what she had told me about living dangerously once in a while, about taking risks, so I decided to do something that would get my heart pumping, a small risk.

“Come on Natalie, you hear that crowd,” Rich said with a look that suggested he didn’t think I would do this, “what do you say? Feel like shaving your head?”

I looked out the window and saw the sun beginning to set. I knew sundown was at 7:33 today, which was in about an hour, and the pot so far tonight had been raised to 558 dollars, so I smiled bravely, took a deep breath, and then spoke into the microphone.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” I said, not quite believing what I was about to do, “if you raise 1000 dollars by sunset, I will.”

Rich’s eyes lit up at the announcement, and he immediately turned back to the crowd with a smile from ear to ear.

“Alright everybody, did you hear that?” he said excitedly as he began lifting long sheafs of my hair and dropping them back into place, “we need 1000 dollars and she’s getting it all cut off! Let’s do it!”

I walked away, smiling, hoping that my pledge would help raise some money, but feeling absolutely secure that it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way they would raise double their total amount in just over an hour for one single head of hair. I walked back to the counter, where Helen and Lisa were waiting with mouths wide open.

“You’re really going to do it?!?” Lisa said as she reached out and ran her fingers through my hair.

“If they raise the money, sure,” I said, hearing a loud calamity behind me as people began talking loudly among themselves regarding the offer, “a pledge is a pledge.”

“But… your beautiful hair!” Helen said as she reached out and gently stroked its full length, “you said you were going to start wearing it down more, and now it’s all going to be gone! I’m never going to get to play with it!”

“Relax Helen,” I said reassuringly as now Lisa began gently running her fingers through my hair, “there’s no way this crowd is going to raise a thousand dollars in less than an hour.”

“We got a hundred and fifty!” I heard Rich say over the microphone behind me, causing me to turn so fast that my long hair whipped wildly around me. I watched in shock as someone else plunked more money into a bucker, “and another 20, that makes it 170!”

“You were saying?” Lisa said as I continued to watch, and felt myself swallow audibly.

Based on the way Rich was collecting money earlier than night, I thought I would be lucky if my pledge raised 250 bucks by sundown, but I watched in sheer terror as he passed that number within the first five minutes of me leaving the stage. The money continued to go into the bucket, both from participants of the event and random customers coming into the store who were caught up in the frenzy. By the time 6:45 rolled around there was already 687 dollars in the bucket, with another 48 minutes left before sundown!

“Oh shit,” I said to the girls as I began breathing heavily behind the counter, “what did I do? God, of all the worst days in the world to fall in love with my hair again!”

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be OK,” Helen said as she walked over and soothingly began stroking my hair, “the money is seriously slowing down, there’s a good chance it has already peaked.”

“And besides,” Lisa said as she stood nearby, “it will always grow back.”

Helen and I both cast her an irritated glare as I heard Rich yell “THAT’S 700 DOLLARS!” from the other side of the shop.

Helen was right, and the donations did indeed begin slowing down rather rapidly, but it became clear that it wasn’t going to be enough. By 6:55 the pot was at 787, but 7:00 it was at 820, and by 7:10 it was sitting at 875.

I knew my hair was doomed for the clippers by 7:15, when someone chipped in 50 dollars and put the pot at 925. After that I heard enthusiasm pick back up and the pot began to climb by singles and 5s.

“God, it’s gonna happen,” I said sadly as I repeatedly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to get as many precious strokes in as possible before its end, “it’s really gonna happen. FUCK!”

“Hey, we don’t know that!” Helen said, adding her hand to my own and sliding it through my long, silken, red-gold mane, “it’s still not there.”

“948 dollars!” I heard Rich yell, and I flashed her a very skeptical, borderline angry look.

“Helen, he has 18 minutes to raise 52 dollars, it’s GOING to happen,” I said, looking down lovingly at all my beautiful hair, “shit… all my beautiful hair… it’s gonna be gone soon! It’s ALL gonna be gone!”

“958 dollars!” Rich yelled, his excitement climbing and about to reach a climax, “963 dollars!”

Lisa gave me a hug, and even Helen who had been trying to be endlessly optimistic this entire time, fell silent as she continued to stroke my hair.

4 minutes later it was all over. Rich’s voice was raging with excitement, and I tried to wear a forced smile as the last few dollars trickled in.

“987… I need 13 dollars!” he yelled, and as I watched in horror I saw one of the patrons drop a twenty into the bucket Rich was holding, “WE GOT A THOUSAND DOLLARS!”

The entire shop screamed with applause, apparently ecstatic that I was going to be forced to lose my beautiful hair. The time was 7:21 PM, which meant I only had 12 minutes left to enjoy my hair. 12 minutes!

“NATALIE!” Rich yelled excitedly into the microphone, “come on down real quick!”

I slapped on a forced smile to hide the sheer dread I was feeling, then walked up to the stage, where Rich quickly began lifting long, thick sheafs of my hair and letting them fall back into place.

“We got a thousand dollars, so she’s getting it all cut off at sundown!” he exclaimed, and I felt my heart sink even lower, “so make sure you’re all back here then, because it’s going to be an event to remember!”

I looked outside and saw the sun hovering just above the mountain range, casting long shadows over the town. I wasn’t sure how long I had, but if I had to guess, I would say I had MAYBE ten minutes to say my goodbyes to me hair.

I walked into the break room and slumped in a chair for a moment, silently kicking myself for agreeing to this insane bet, then I stood up and walked over to our full-size mirror. I began running my fingers through my fingers through my hair for what I knew would be the last time, then grabbed my hair and held it as tightly as I could against my head to get an idea in my head of what I would look like without hair… and I didn’t like it one bit.

 

“Oh my God… I’m gonna be bald…” I said quietly as I looked at myself in the mirror, the time left with my hair slipping through my fingers, “God, I’m so sorry I didn’t appreciate you more… I just wish I had more time.”

I looked down at my hair lovingly, watching it shine beautifully in defiance of what was about to happen to it.

“AND HERE SHE IS!” Rich said as I left the break room and made my way to the chair, sitting in it and resigning my hair to its ultimate, horrible fate, “LET’S GIVE HER A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR HER BRAVERY LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

I waved to the cheering crowd as I looked outside and saw the sun had more than half set over the mountains, my time was rapidly running out, and my breathing quickened. The female barber who would be doing my shave began to wrap a cape around me, but I waved her off.

“Are you sure?” she asked, “it’s gonna get pretty itchy.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure,” I said as I looked outside and saw the sun sink a little lower, “I want to take it all in, and feel what it’s like as it goes.”

A short while passed as I heard the crowd chat excitedly and Rich explained a bit more about the event itself. The sun sank lower, now barely a quarter of it was left showing, and I felt my tension rise as it continued to sink. Finally, Rich began to prep the barber for the shave, and at that moment, I only had 28 seconds left with my hair.

“OK, the sun’s almost down, so we’re about to do this ladies and gentlemen,” Rich said, and the barber picked up a pair of giant looking clippers, “our barber Phyllis is going to get ready for the big event.”

My barber (Phyllis apparently) picked up a pair of scissors, and I gulped as she practiced opening and closing them, the blades making terrifying, metallic sounds. I watched sadly, trying to make my face impassive, my hair hanging beautifully in front of my face and fluttering slightly with every exhaled breath from my nose. It was magnificent, but not for much longer.

9 seconds before the destruction of my beautiful mane began, Rich looked to the sun, which was little more than the tiniest sliver of golden light peaking out over the mountain.

“OK, this is it ladies and gentlemen, get ready…”

My hair had 6 second left, and Phyllis picked up a long, silky lock from the front of my head, the first victim of many.

“Almost…” Rich said, 4 seconds left, and the sun sank lower.

“Almoooooooost…” Rich exclaimed again, 2 seconds left. Phyllis placed the scissors to the base of the lock, and as I watched helplessly the last trace of the sun disappeared behind the mountain. Time was up for my hair.

“Aaaaaaand GOODBYYYYYYYE HAIR!” Rich said, and without missing a beat, Phyllis closed the blades of the scissors with a horrible, unforgettable sound somewhere between a crunch and a prolonged SNIP. She dropped the lock of hair in front of me, and I swallowed as I watched it float to the floor.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and I tried to picture how I currently looked, my gorgeous, long, red-gold hair offset by a single patch of short, angry stubble in the front. She had just begun the long, painful death of my hair, and while I knew I still had about 99.9% of my long, silky locks still intact, I had definitely already passed the point of no return.

Phyllis worked fast, stealing away a third lock, then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh… and within minutes she had snipped off over twenty long, shining locks from my head. She worked methodically and quickly, reducing the hair on the left side of my head to nothing more than a plane of short, uneven, roughly chopped stubble, and I had to close my eyes to keep from crying.

But my eyes snapped open with I heard an angry buzzing start next to my ear, and Phyllis plunged a pair of electric clippers into the decimated hair that still remained on that half of my head. I felt the clippers peel away the short hair that still remained on my head, and before long it had stripped it all away with ruthless and clean efficiency.

I looked in the mirror at the strange juxtaposition of a woman looking back at me, half of my head as bare as a desert, the other half still covered in long, luscious, red-gold silk. An enormous pile of my beloved shed locks was piled in my lap, and my fingers absently rubbed them in a re-assuring manner as I looked at myself in the mirror. Phyllis didn’t give me a chance to dwell on it though, and I wasn’t sure if it should have upset me or if I should have thanked her for that.

Through the entire process I could hear Rich in the background telling the crowd about his organization, about the coffee shop, about me and how we first met, but it was so much static in my ears. All I could do at that moment was to try and blank out my mind and not focus on what was happening to the hair I had just re-discovered a deep love for.

I felt Phyllis put the clippers on my head, thinking for a moment that she was going to clean up a patch or two that she had missed, but with horror, felt the clippers plunge into my still-long hair on the other side of my head. It sank into it and severed it without missing a beat, sending those beautiful tresses into my lap with the rest of my treasured locks.

Through the entire process I could hear Rich in the background telling the crowd about his organization, about the coffee shop, about me and how we first met, but it was so much static in my ears. All I could do at that moment was to try and blank out my mind and not focus on what was happening to the hair I had just re-discovered a deep love for.

I felt Phyllis put the clippers on my head, thinking for a moment that she was going to clean up a patch or two that she had missed, but with horror, felt the clippers plunge into my still-long, still-beautiful hair on the other side of my head. It sank into it and severed it without missing a beat, sending those beautiful tresses into my lap with the rest of my treasured locks.

I could feel what was left of my hair, which had been nothing short of remarkable and glorious just 6 minutes ago, being peeled away strip by beautiful strip. I watched helplessly as those mounds of soft hair joined the rest of my already shed locks in my lap, biting my lip to keep from sobbing out as I did so. It was ruthless and cruel, but I knew doing it so quick was the most human way to separate me from my beloved hair. I heard the clippers shut off, and for a second I thought they had broken, that the sheer thickness and healthiness of my gorgeous hair had just been too much for them to handle. But then the truth dawned on me, I realized that it was a sign that the deed was done, and my hair was truly gone.

“Everyone, let’s give Natalie a big round of applause!” Rich exclaimed, and the crowd did just that, “doesn’t she look beautiful folks?

 

I barely heard it as I looked in the mirror and saw the complete stranger looking back at me. I hadn’t had my hair shorter than my shoulders for at least 10 years, and this bare-headed, bald woman looking back at me seemed completely alien to my eyes. I hated it, I wanted nothing more than to be re-united with my long, vanished locks of pure silk, but I knew that was impossible. I kept smiling that plastic, terrified smile as Rich took my hand and helped me to my feet. I felt something tickling my shoulder and I turned to see Phyllis handing me some sort of bulky pile of something, and as I looked down I was horrified to see it was my hair!

“Natalie, let’s get a shot for the website,” I heard someone with a camera say as Phyllis draped the hair over my shoulder, and I looked toward the camera with my shed mounds of red-gold hair draped over my shoulder. It was over.

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

I walked into my home and tossed the mail on the table along with my keys, then slipped out of my tan leather jacket and went to the closet to hang it up. I stopped to look at the mirror as I passed it, reaching up and tussling my hair as I did so. My mane was obviously nowhere near the glorious head of hair it had been eight months ago, but it was coming along nicely, and currently fell to a shoulder-length shag that actually looked pretty cute on me.

I walked back to the mail and opened a letter from something called “Compassion International”, and gasped when I saw the kid in the picture. It was a young girl, maybe 8 or 9, with a shoulder-length bob of red-gold hair that I recognized immediately as my hair. I read the letter from the girl, which was short and sweet.

Dear Miss Natalie,

Thank you so much for giving up your hair. I love my wig, and wear it every day as I get better from my chemotherapy treatments. You are so brave. I love you.

I read it two more times, then lowered it with tears in my eyes, and as I turned to look at myself once again, I realized that my shag was looking much better than it had before.

THE END

 

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