A new year a new me

New Year New Me

 

All characters events and places described are fictitious.

 

I rouse from my sleep and feel rough. That was a heavy night last night, where am I now? This doesn’t seem familiar at all. A strange bed, I’m totally naked and there’s someone asleep next to me. Oh no what have I done? As I come to, the feeling down below confirms what we have done and now I recognise him as the doorman from the club we were in. I feel so ashamed. I cannot actually remember getting here and now a panic hits me -what time is it? I’ve so much to do today and if I’m late there will be trouble. My handbag and clothes must be around here. I get up and search the floor. My dress is there so is my bag, my panties are nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t roused thankfully. I hurriedly pull my dress over my head, slip my shoes on and head out the door.

 

It’s a relief to be out but checking the time only brings on a deeper panic. Its Christmas day. I’m supposed to be at my mum’s in a couple of hours for lunch and there are no buses or taxis around today. I just walk for a moment and collect my thoughts. I’m so ashamed of what’s just happened and feel so conspicuous walking along wearing just a tiny very short and revealing thin dress and very high heels, my makeup smeared over my face and my hair a total mess. If that wasn’t enough it’s absolutely freezing without the alcohol that normally accompanies this type of attire. The wind is blowing up my dress and the missing panties and damp from last night are combining to be very unpleasant, the cold is making my nipples hugely erect and the thin dress does nothing to hide them I must look a right little tart. Right Helen time to start thinking its now 10:45 and lunch is at 1:00 I haven’t time to get back to my flat and change and be at mum’s in time this leaves me one option. I really don’t want to do it but needs must.

 

I pull out my phone and dial the number it rings for a short while then she answers.

“Hello mum it’s me” I say

“I thought it was your Dad when the phone went. He’s just left, is everything OK?”

“No mum it’s not. I need you to help me”

I explained that I was stuck and needed her to come and pick me up and that I’ll explain every thing when she arrives.

I’ve a little wait for her to get here. Luckily its not that far away, on the same side of the city as I’m on now unlike my flat. As I stand I notice passing drivers looking at me. What must they think of me and what will my mum think? I know she’s not been too happy with the way I’ve been leading my life the past couple of years with all the drinking, partying and different boyfriends. Mum Dad and me had always been very close up until two years ago just before my twenty first birthday. At that time I was in a steady relationship with a boy I’d known since school and was a bit of a mousey young girl then, not really that attractive I thought, and quiet and somewhat shy. In fact although Dean and I had been together some time I was still a virgin, my mum and dad really liked Dean and we did a lot together, the four of us and Dean wanted us to get engaged on my birthday. This really pleased my parents. All this was to change however when Chris came to work in my office. He was ten years older than me and recently divorced, he was wild in a way dean would never dream of being and began to pay me a lot of attention and was always making me laugh with his mad escapades. It began with him making suggestions about what a shame it was I hid my lovely long blonde hair (which I’d grown almost to my waist to please dean) away in a tight bun, then unpinned it and spread it over my shoulders. I started to change the way I dressed to please him, with short skirts and skimpy tops replacing trousers and polo shirts. It wasn’t long before I’d moved in with him and ditched Dean much to the disappointment of my parents. My appearance changed as my confidence grew and the straight plain long hair became trendy layered long hair and the final change was when he persuaded me to have a large tattoo on my shoulder. We didn’t last that long together then I moved on to a series of short relationships and hanging out with a loud gang of ladettes. This is what had brought me to be how I am now and the mess my life has become.

 

Mums car pulls up and she looks horrified to see her daughter stood on a street corner dressed like this.

“Get in quickly before some one sees you!”

I get in the car and she pulls away.

“Good god Helen what on earth is going on here? You look like a prostitute stood there! Where is your coat? Have you even been home yet?”

This morning all becomes too much and I just break down in tears. I feel so ashamed at how I’ve let all my family down recently.

“I’m so sorry mum for everything” I manage between sobs.

We pull into an empty car park and I tell her everything about the way I’ve been living lately. At first she’s shocked that her girl could be so off the rails and gives me a stern talking to about how I need to sort myself out, then starts to cry herself and we finish holding each other and crying for the relationship we lost.

“There isn’t time to go back to your place and thank goodness your father is out so he doesn’t see you like this. He’ll be back at 12:30 with your grandmothers so we need to get you sorted out fast.”

With this we drive off quickly to their house. It’s only been two years since I moved out but I still feel nervous going in.

“Now straight up and get in the shower, there aren’t any of your clothes here now so you’ll have to lend some of mine”

Taking my dress off and getting into the shower is a relief and I give myself a really good wash, especially down below to wash the stickiness left from last night. I’d been waxed two days before so there’s no hair to bother with. Then the thought of someone picking my discarded panties off their floor and maybe putting them away as some kind of trophy makes me shudder. Mum comes in with some shampoo and passes it through and notices my clean genitals and tattoo; both things I wouldn’t have dreamed of having done when I lived here.

She just shakes her head and I feel as if I’ve let her down even more.

“Come through to my bedroom as soon as you finish.”

 

I’ve a towel around me and one over my hair as I go through.

“I’ve nothing like you’re used to but these will have to do.”

At this point I didn’t care what I wore I was just so glad to get that slutty little dress off.

Mum hands me a pair of her knickers. Luckily we are very similar in size these are large white cotton ones – the type I always remember her wearing. They come up over my waistband and there’s no cutting away at the legs. I don’t question, just pull them up. Next a bra, as I wasn’t wearing one last night and in my dress had my boobs well on display. They will not be with this bra of mum’s although we are the same size this is far bigger than any I own. The straps are really wide, the materials seamed over the cups and there are six fasteners at the back.

“I don’t remember you wearing this type before mum.”

“No, well I’ve come to appreciate the better fit and support gained from proper underwear and now wear nothing else, you hopefully will feel the benefit, especially compared to how you’ve been displaying yourself.”

This last part of the statement makes me redden up in embarrassment at the thought of my actions. Without any other comment I put the bra on. It feels so different to any I’ve worn before and covers a lot more too. My boobs are really firmly held and shaped, not that naturally into definite raised cones. This looks like really old fashioned undies used to and I’m quite surprised by mum, although now I think back her tastes have definitely changed these last few years. She’s in her late forties which isn’t that old and she has lovely skin and figure, but her clothes are definitely what could be called formal and old fashioned possibly. Certainly she dressed older than her age but at the same time she did look stylish and certainly always very neat and tidy. In fact I cannot remember the last time I saw her wearing trousers and certainly not jeans which she used to wear often. I remember her changing her hair about 18 months ago from the lovely long locks half way down her back she had always had, to a blunt bob just above her shoulders with a straight fringe. At the time she told me she had it cut at the request of my dad who loved her new look. Maybe the prim clothes are to please him too although they certainly suit her even if they do add a few years to her appearance.

“Now Helen, I don’t have any tights you can lend as I stopped wearing them. Nowadays I always wear stockings as I think they are so much healthier, so you’ll have to today as you cannot be bare legged with your grandparents coming”

This will be different as I’m always bare legged with skirts and dresses and never usually bother at all who sees me. Mum however has different standards now and with everything that’s happened so far today I’m not going to start arguing now.

“You’ll need to wear this. I don’t suppose you’ve ever worn one before”

The ‘this’ in question turns out to be a large deep suspender belt with three straps each side. No I haven’t worn any thing to compare with it. I put it on and its quite tight around my middle and feels very strange to someone used to flimsy modern clothes. Then come the stockings; quite thick 20denier tan. I have to sit on the bed and mum shows me how to attach the suspenders then tightens them. This feels very odd and its like I’ve been trussed up, but at the same time strangely not unpleasant. These stockings are smooth and looking in a full length mirror on the front of mums wardrobe I cannot believe what I’m seeing. I feel like a little girl again dressing up in her mum’s clothes for fancy dress. I never would have dreamt of wearing underwear like this.

There’s a full length white slip to put on next: I’ve been out on the town recently in dresses thinner than this. Again a look in the mirror continues to amaze me.

“We’d better get a move on. Your father will be back soon with your grandmothers and I don’t think we need to be explaining to them what’s going on here do we?”

She gestures for me to sit at her dressing table and picks up a hair brush. I can feel the suspenders move against my legs as I sit down and the stockings tighten at the back. I haven’t had my mum do my hair for years. I smile to myself as it seems so nice to be closer again. It’s such a shame it’s taken such bad behaviour on my part to trigger this feeling again.

She takes off my towel and brushes my long hair out, I remember how she used to sit me here and brush my hair, then spend a long time brushing out her own long silky hair. I always loved touching mum’s hair it was so soft.

It doesn’t take her long as she’s not very sympathetic this morning when small knots catch in the brush. She pulls it all straight back and sections it and braids it tightly into a perfect, neat French plait that takes all my hair straight back off my face. With a clean face and my hair tied the reflection takes me back to how I used to look and behave, until I glance at my shoulder and see the garish colours of the tattoo embedded in my skin. At this point I realise I need to change as I cannot go on as I am now – after all what sort of tart wakes up next to a man she’s never met before, and had that much to drink she cannot even properly remember the sexual acts that took place.

“Mum I need to get back to how I used to be and put this mad life style behind me, don’t I?”

“Yes dear you do. These last two years have been a disappointment to us all. I hoped we brought you up better than to disrespect yourself the way you have been. Your father still thinks the world of you despite of all that, and I don’t think it would be a good idea for him to have to confront the details of your squalid carryings on, so lets keep that between us shall we”

“Yes mum, I don’t want to upset him any more.”

“A little powder on your face and that should be you presentable, oh and take those hoops out of your ears and put these little studs in; they’re far more discreet.”

Standing with my freshly powdered face and little studs in my exposed ears where all my hair has been drawn severely back, I put on the dark blue dress mums holding out to me. She zips up the back for me. I never would have picked a dress like this, in fact its very similar to the grey dress mums wearing, it comes below my knees and flares out slightly. The neck is round and high and it has long sleeves. The slip ensures it hangs lovely around me and surprisingly I feel very feminine.

“Just one thing to finish you off.”

Mum put a short row of pearls around my neck and I stand quite pleased in front of the mirror and turn from side to side to take in the new look I’ve been given.

I turn and mum’s crying.

“My dear you look so beautiful – a young lady again. I never thought I’d get to see this again. Now we need to get a move on or they will all be back and there will be no lunch ready.”

 

We worked well in the kitchen together both with an apron over our dresses. Every time I walked I felt the suspenders and they reminded me what I was wearing underneath.

 

Before long dad came back with my two grandmothers. Unfortunately neither of my grandfathers are still with us, so every Christmas day they have lunch with us. They are quite different although both quite elderly. My mum’s mother is a lovely gentle old lady who I don’t visit as often as I should, my other gran is different again. Although she’s well past retiring age she still has her own small very old fashioned hairdressing salon. I haven’t been their to see her in a long time and mum once had quite a fall out with her over her long hair and the fact she wouldn’t let gran cut it how she thought a young wife’s hair should be cut – in fact she never let her cut it at all. She offered mum to cut my hair when I was young but luckily mum always declined her offer. I don’t think she does as many clients as she used to but she is still adamant about carrying on working as long as she can. Where one gran is gentle this one has a opinion on most things and likes to get her own way, in fact she could be described as a bit of a old battle axe. I normally get a few acid comments off her along the lines of “Who ever has cut your hair? It’s not at all even.” and “you must feel the cold in a skirt that length.”

I normally just give her a smile and let it go over my head as reacting would probably make her worse.

We are all in the front room.

“My darling you look absolutely lovely” beams my dad.

“Look at you my grand daughter a lovely young lady” answers one gran.

“It about time she started to show some modesty” sharply replies the other.

I guess that’s as close to a compliment as I’ll get from her. Every one else makes a fuss of me and seem genuinely pleased with how I look, it’s worth wearing all this if it makes my family so happy.

 

Lunch is running smoothly with every one happy even gran’s smiling, then dad turns to his mother and makes what seems to me a strange statement.

“Yes, my present. Are we still ok to do Denise tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, but I want you there early. I’m going to your brother’s tomorrow afternoon and it will take a good while for the full works.”

This statement has me wondering what he’s on about, what works is my mum Denise getting in the morning?

I let it pass for now but later, while every one else is sat in the front room I offer to do the washing up with dad.

“Dad what did you mean earlier about your present?”

“Your mums having her hair done for me.”

“By gran”

“Yes gran will be doing her hair. For a long time I’ve thought that your mum would look lovely with a nice, more formal hairstyle to match the more traditional way she has been dressing, and I remember all the ladies gran used to work on when I was a boy, mums been thinking about this for a while and has agreed to let gran go to work on her.”

This leaves me speechless for a while. All Grans clients end up with short, tightly permed, very traditional sets. Is that what he really wants for mum?

“So mums going to be short and curly then I take it.”

“I hope so.”

We left the conversation there.

 

The rest of the day is very pleasant and in the evening dad takes my Grans back home this gives me chance to talk to mum.

“So you’re going to have a restyle then?”

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose” says mum as she puts her hand up and runs her fingers through the back of her bob.

“Your dad’s wanted me to let his mum cut my hair for a long while now. I don’t think I was ready to offer up my hair to her before, but now it feels right to be having a perm to please your dad. To be honest with you I’m very nervous about the whole affair, and she wont need any encouragement to cut all my hair off, but sometimes it’s good to do things for the ones you love, and if this is what your dad really wants for me then how can I refuse him this one thing?”.

“What exactly are you having done then?”

“Well I’m having it cut one short length all over, the back will be raised up and clippered then tight around my ears off my face tightly permed then roller set and lacquered. As she put it ‘the works’. I’m going to look very much one of her regular customers.”

“How do you think you’ll feel after all that?”

“Shocked probably.”

“You’ve had a major make over before though haven’t you? I remember when your long hair was first cut as it is now.”

“yes I suppose this will feel similar. I remember going to the hairdresser’s that day and my very long hair being cut off. That felt as if I was growing up leaving my old, younger self behind and accepting a degree of maturity. It still took some time to get used to the lighter feeling and I must say I did have a couple of tears as my hair was removed, but I’ve come to appreciate now it was for the best and I suppose I may feel the same about a perm after a while”.

“Was having your long hair cut dads idea too?”

“Not at first but he soon picked up on it and wanted me to go really short soon after, so this cut I’m having tomorrow isn’t exactly rushed into.”

“I’m sure you’ll look lovely mum.”

“I’m not sure I’ll look lovely. Prim and proper perhaps but I don’t think you’re Gran’s any intention of leaving me anything but a smart very short haired mature lady. And may be that won’t be such a bad thing.”

 

After everything that has happened in the last day I feel content here back at home. My phone’s turned off as I don’t want to talk to any of my friends at the moment, and a night out drinking is the last thing I want after the mess the last one left me in.

“Mum could I ask you something?”

“Of course you can dear.”

“I’ve so enjoyed today. Would it be ok for me to stop here for a few days?”

“Of course you can this will always be you home, silly.”

“Even though I’ve badly let you down?”

“What’s done is done. We just need to learn from it now, but I think you’ll need to go back to your flat to collect some clothes.”

This makes me think about the clothes in my flat, the clothes are all dressy, perhaps flashy, and very fashionable. That’s not how I want mum and dad to think of me at the moment.

With out thinking a question comes out.

“Mum, it’s nice wearing these clothes.Would I be able to borrow a couple of outfits from you rather than what I normally wear?”

“I think that would be lovely to have a presentable daughter for the holiday period, and I know how pleased dad and your Grans were today with your tamer appearance.  We’ve a few visits planned to relatives over the next few days and it would please us both to have you with us, especially dressed as a proper young lady should be. Do you think you’ll be able to manage that even with the suspenders?”

“Mum I would love it and yes, they do take some getting used to, but they’re nice in the way they remind me what I’m wearing.”

“They certainly do that.” laughs mum.

 

I spend the night back in my old bed wearing one of mum’s long flannelette nightdresses. I haven’t slept this well in ages.

 

I wake early and come downstairs still in my nightdress. It’s 7:00 but I think dads been up for a while. He’s fully dressed and preparing breakfast.

“You’re up early today dad.”

“Yes, I think I’m a bit too excited to sleep in today and we need to be out by 8:00 to get to your gran’s salon. Your mum will be down any minute, we’ve a busy day today what with the morning took up on mum’s new hair, then we’re going with gran to uncle Alan’s this afternoon. It will be nice to see them all. So what are your plans today?”

I hadn’t given today much thought but I didn’t want to go back to the flat, and its nice spending time with mum and dad. Besides I haven’t seen uncle Alan and auntie Joan in ages. We used to spend a lot of time with them when I was young and as they have no children of their own they always had a lot of time for me.

“How about I come with you today, I’d love to see them all again”

“It would be lovely to have you with us, but we will be going straight from gran’s, so you’re going to have to wait quite a while during mum’s hair.”

I don’t know why but mum receiving a full makeover from gran has intrigued me. I’m still not at all sure why she is submitting herself to the hairstyle they have lined up for her, and I definitely don’t think this will do anything for her looks. In fact it will probably make her look a lot older than she really is. In fact with the right hair cut and clothes she could easily pass for early 30’s not her true late 40’s.

“I don’t mind it will just be nice to be all together”

 

Mum enters the kitchen wearing a matching long nightdress to mine.

“Good morning everyone.” she mumbles

“Good morning dear. We need to get a move on, we don’t want to be late”

Dad seems really excited today and keeps looking at his watch. He walks over behind mum and runs his fingers through her hair. She arches her head back as he massages her head.

“Ready to say goodbye to all this then dear?”

“As ready as I’m going to be. I just want to get it over with now that the big day is here. I do hope she won’t cut me too short. I remember some of her customers years ago when we used to have to go round there before we were married. She used to be pretty hard on them, especially the younger ones dragged in by their mothers. She used to butcher some of those girls long hair. She’s wanted to get her hands on mine for years now, are you sure this is what you really want as there will be no turning back once its done?”

“I’m certain dear, the cut and perm will be perfect for you. We have been talking about it for some time now.”

“I know what you’re saying. It’s just now it’s actually time to hand myself over to her it seems daunting.”

“Now don’t worry dear, it’s only a haircut at the end of the day and if you really don’t like it your hair will soon grow back to how it is now, and I’m quite sure mum will only cut off what’s needed and no more.”

Dad seems very keen to reassure mum but a couple of his answers seem a bit light to me. Firstly its not just a haircut, mums going to be changing the way the world views her, and if gran cuts hair the way I suspect she does it’s not going to grow back any time soon, and lastly knowing how opinionated gran is it will be her opinion of what needs cutting off, not mums, that wins the day. Weighing these thoughts up and the fact mum seems to want to get this over with, I hold my tongue and say nothing.

“Helen’s coming with us this morning” adds dad .

“We’d better get ready then” replies mum and goes up stairs for a shower.

 

As soon as mum finishes I follow her in then go through to her bedroom. Dad’s already changed and is outside scraping ice off the car and talking to a neighbour.

It’s a surprise to see what mums changing into. She’s just attaching the suspenders hanging from a black open bottom all in one corselette to some black stockings. She has a excellent figure still.

“I wouldn’t have thought you needed a corset to control your waist mum, it’s always so trim”

“This is more about posture than compression dear. In fact it affects how you move and act when wearing it; it leaves me no choice but to be a composed elegant lady.”

“Does dad like these?”

“It was you’re dad who bought me my first one”

“Wow” is all I can think of to answer.

“Now then no time to hang about I’ve laid out some clothes for you”

I quickly dress. It’s a little different from yesterday, and black stockings to match hers, a similar bra, knickers and suspender belt to yesterday only this time I can do my own suspenders up and fasten them nice and tight so I can feel them every time I move. Finished off with a crisp white blouse with a floppy bow at the collar, and a black pleated skirt well below my knee and matching jacket.

Mums also wearing a black skirt but she’s finished off with a light pink fine wool twin set. With my hair still in its plait from yesterday we are ready to go in no time and with a quick look in the mirror each we smile to one another then mum reaches up and touches her hair for one last time.

“Well we hadn’t better keep gran waiting”

 

Its takes about a quarter of a hour to reach Gran’s salon. You couldn’t really call it a salon. Compared to most hairdressers premises it’s basically a converted front room, in a small terraced house, in a quiet back street. She doesn’t even have a noticeable sign just a window screened by a grubby looking net curtain, and a glass door with a closed sign hanging in it. No one has said any thing on the drive over. I’m sat in the back and watch as mum repeatedly strokes her hair. I haven’t been here for quite a long time and even when we have visited in the past we normally have to walk down a side entry to the living quarters at the rear of the shop, so this will be the first time I’ve been into her salon. Although I’m actually nervous for mum I’m also intrigued as to what this place is actually like and what she will be doing to mum.

We come to the salon but Dad can’t get a parking spot outside, as the narrow street is full of parked cars. We have to drive to nearly the end before he’s able to pull over.

“Ready then dear?” dad addresses mum

She doesn’t answer just gives a small nod of her head and gets out the car.

As we walk towards the salon my curiosity starts to come out.

“Has gran had this salon very long dad?”

“Yes I grew up on this street and used to have to help out sometimes when I was younger, so grans been running this since about 1960, but before that it belonged to her mother and gran used to work for her. So during my early years we were all living in the one house which with the shop taking up most of the down stairs made things a bit cramped at times. The surprising thing is the shop, as it was always called by my gran never the salon, has hardly changed in all those years. It could do with a good spruce up really, but I don’t think your gran likes change, and probably neither do most of her customers”.

 

We arrive at the front door and dad knocks on the glass. The curtains look dirtier close up, and the woodwork could use some paint too. If you didn’t know, you’d assume this was one of those little shops that had ceased trading and someone had converted into living accommodation.

 

“Come along don’t let the heat out” orders gran as she holds the door open.

It’s not the heat that hits as we enter; it’s the smell. All hairdressers have a smell about them, but this one is magnified as if they haven’t opened a window since 1960. The ammonia mixed with a heavy sweet smell catches my throat and makes me cough.

“Oh Helen, I wasn’t expecting you to accompany your parents today.”

“Well we thought it would be easier, so we could all go on together after.”

She doesn’t answer, just looks at me with a strange intensity that makes me a little uneasy, and then suddenly turns to mum.

“Right then Denise lets get on shall we? Hang your coat over there please.”

I slip the coat I’ve lent from mum off too, and dad gestures for me to have a seat on one of the three wooden chairs by the coat hooks. This must be grans waiting area then.

I take a seat and view the salon. There’s not that much to take in. It’s all very old. Other than the chairs we’re sat on, against one wall opposite the curtained window and door, is a row of three old fashioned, and judging by the way the white has yellowed and the seats have split in places and been repaired, original hair dryers.

The wall between us has the only styling chair only this isn’t like any chair I’ve ever sat in; it’s more a small barbers chair, with a big pedal at the back and a foot rest on the front. The other striking thing is no wash station just a big discoloured sink straight in front of the chair. There’s an oval mirror mounted on the wall, and shelves with towels stacked on one side and drawers at the side of the sink.

While I’ve been having a look around, grans been getting mum into a once flowery gown. The flowers have faded somewhat and mum looks self-conscious as she has to lift her bob up for gran to tie the cord behind her.

“Into the chair then” gran instructs.

Mum goes over and sits in the chair. She arranges the gown around her knees then takes a long look in the mirror.

“Right then a couple of things to clear up. One length, top off the face, back tapered or curled under?” asks gran

Mum turns her head to dad “What would you like?” she asks.

“Defiantly tapered back and sides.”

“Slight taper or high taper?”

“High and close please” again dad replies, gran nods in approval at this request.

“Small tight curls or longer dressed curl?”

“Small and very tight please, teased together rather than back combed for the set.”

“It’s nice to see you can still remember my favourite,” says a happy looking gran.

One of the towels is placed round mum’s shoulders and gran runs the water in the sink to warm it up. Without saying a word she puts her hand on the back of mum’s head and leans her over into the sink and gives her a vigorous shampoo.

I cannot stop myself wondering what it would be like to be in mum’s shoes now. Probably terrifying; I’ve never had a major change from long to short. I suppose for years my hair was just mid length and ordinary, then I grew it very long for Dean. I suppose my biggest ever change was when I got my present trendy layers although I didn’t lose much length then, so it didn’t seem very dramatic at the time, although with all the other changes taking place at that time it probably just got lost amongst them all.

 

During my time daydreaming, gran has towelled mum’s hair and combed it out straight – a perfect bob, just on her shoulder now the water makes it look longer.

Gran opens a drawer and takes out a long pair of scissors, combs the first section out from the right side of mum’s head, and cuts it straight off leaving a clump of hair about 2inches long. The cut hair – about 8 inches of it – has fallen straight down and rests on mum’s gowned shoulder. Gran hasn’t attempted to drop the hair out of the way like the stylist does when my hair is trimmed, and gran is soon into the next section, followed by the next.

The floor is covered by old lino with a worn patch around the chair. This is now getting a covering of straight sections of hair that are falling off mum. There is a pile in her lap but she just sits like a statue barely blinking and showing no emotion. It’s a contrast: one side a short boys cut, the other still her bob, and still the cutting continues. No one’s saying a word and the shop seems to echo with every snip. I can even hear the shrrr noise her hair makes as the scissors part it. My heart is beating fast. What must mum’s be doing?

What would it be like to have all my hair cut off? That’s a question I’ve never asked myself before, and based on the evidence in front of me the answer should be terrifying. Mum’s self control doesn’t waver and the hair piles up deeper. I think Gran’s really enjoying this.

Finally gran puts down her scissors and picks up a small brush and removes the clinging strips of damp hair from around mum’s now exposed ears and neck. She looks a bit like Kylie when she used to have her crop.

“Which one shall we be using?” asks gran, and comes over and shows dad two different perm rods. One is small and parallel, the other the same size at the ends is recessed in, making the middle even smaller.

Dad seems to ponder for a moment then looks over at mum then back at the rods.

“How much more will need to come off to use that one?” he asks, pointing at the recessed rod. “Will you be using foam?”

Dad seems to know a lot about all this process.

“I‘ll take her down to about an inch in the finish cut; that will mean the smallest rollers for her set, and I wont use a foam this time. I’m going to use my strongest as it’s her first time; the hair is healthy enough to take it.”

“An inch all over it is then.”

Gran takes up the scissors again and with her comb reduces mum’s hair to about 1.5 inches all over and shorter around the edges. There’s not that much hair to show for this cut compared to the first time.

After finishing this second cut she wheels over a trolley that was parked by the dryers. It’s covered with a variety of rods and rollers in different trays. She motions for dad to join her, and hands him a tray of rods.

“Pass me one of these for each rod.” gran speaks to mum for the first time then hands her a pack of papers.

Mum has to take her hands out from under the gown to accept the passed pack.

Gran’s hand goes out and with out a word dad puts one of the small rods in it, like he’s done this many times before.

Gran combs up a small section from the centre of mum’s now short fringe. Her free hand lingers at the side of mum’s head.

“Come along I haven’t all day” she says forcefully.

Mum on cue hands over a paper which gran wraps round the hair, then rolls it around the rod securing with the hanging elastic strap. This team effort is swiftly repeated to create a row from front to back. The rods are placed very close together and she’s used loads of them. The rest of mum’s head now follows. The rods at the sides are in a different direction to the top but they all look very tight, and it’s strange to see mum with all her hair pulled back off her face like this. In fact its strange seeing her in these small rods, I wonder if this is how she will look when she’s finished.

Grans checking the rods now and tightens one even more. Mum’s face changes slightly as she relocks the rod. They must be pulling a bit, they certainly look anything but comfortable.

On the bottom of the trolley is a roll of cotton wool strip, without being asked dad passes this up and gran wraps a strip around the edge of mum’s pulled taunt hairline. The towel round mum’s shoulders is refastened tight all round her neck, then gran picks up a bottle from the counter top and squeezes out liquid on to the first rod she fastened.

My mum closes her eyes and lowers her head slightly almost as a sign of resignation; I suppose this is a point of no return. From now on it’s curls all the time for a good while to come.

Her eyes stay shut and head bowed while she given a good soaking. The rods glisten under the harsh strip lighting until gran covers them over with a clear plastic cap.

 

“Right then that’s the first part over with dear, you can have a cup of tea now if you want” dad cheerfully informs mum.

Mum gives him a weak smile. I don’t think she’s enjoying this that much.

“That would be nice”

Gran turns to me.

“Now then you can make yourself useful while the processing takes place. Get that brush from by the window and sweep this hair up before someone slips.”

This is my first chance for a wander around, and I get the brush and sweep around the chair. Mum’s hair makes quite a heap.

There’s a plastic bin and I take the lid off ready to put mums hair in, I cannot help looking inside. Most of the hair is either white or grey and not very long, but just below the top layer is a large pile of lovely honey blonde hair. Without thinking I put my hand in and pull some out. A lot of it’s still in a ponytail although not tied together and it soon separates out.

I get the feeling I’m being watched and turn to find gran stood behind me.

“That young lady will be feeling a difference this Christmas” she informs me.

“I didn’t know you did younger ladies here” I reply, a bit shocked to see so much fine soft hair in gran’s bin. I cannot imagine why any younger woman would be coming anywhere like this for a haircut.

“That was one of my regular customer’s daughters in law, they are stopping with her over Christmas, and Edith was fed up with her messing with her hair all the time, so while her son was out she marched the flirty girl in here and I chopped it all off. Gave her a nice neat short cut and when she’s used to it I’m very sure she’ll thank me for not holding back.”

I put mum’s hair on top of the long blonde hair and go and sit back down. Dad’s made us all tea and I take my cup.

What I’ve just seen has shook me a bit. I suppose it’s one thing to see your parent in such a old fashioned place as this, but to think that a young woman probably about my age has been brow beaten by a bossy old mother in law into getting into gran’s chair, then had her lovely long hair cropped by a old battle axe like gran. What a nightmare for the poor gir,l and what on earth would her husband have to say when he returned and found his young wife’s hair butchered.

This line of thought takes me to the next step – how would I feel sat in gran’s chair? I know she would relish the chance to get her hands on my hair and has done for years , I bet she’d really go to town on me. Good job she’s not going to get the chance.

The changes that woman went through must be dramatic. I know wearing different, more modest, clothes has affected my attitude and to be honest I’m liking what I see today. The initial discomfort of the suspenders has faded. In fact with my mind wandering to that hair, I haven’t noticed them for a while. The black stockings this morning did feel a bit glamorous as I pulled them up and attached them. I wonder what the corselette mums wearing feels like, all those tight control panels must be restrictive but it was very feminine, I cannot believe me, the girl who a few days ago seldom wore a bra any more, is thinking about a tight corselette! What a difference a couple of days can make.

During this long thought, and I must have been in dream land a long while, a lot has happened. I hadn’t noticed but the processing and the washing must be complete because mum’s sat up in the chair with a towel around her head.

“Are we all ready then?” says gran with a smile on her face then removes the towel.

 

What a change my hand goes to my mouth to stop a gasp being heard, mum looks in shock and dad and gran are beaming.

“Look how well it’s taken mum, and so tight and soft” says dad as he touches the back of mums head.

“My word that has curled well” replies gran.

Mum doesn’t speak, she just reaches up and pats the sides of her head then gives dad a small smile.

I’d love to go and feel the curls but before I can move gran takes control.

“Right, we’re not finished yet, so let’s get on shall we?”

She replaces the towel around mum’s neck then picks up a wide tooth comb and gives mum’s curls a comb through. This makes no difference I can see as the tiny little curls spring straight back.

She must be ready for the rollers I think, but instead of going to the trolley gran goes into one of the drawers and takes out some electric clippers, plugs them in, then drapes the cable over mum’s shoulder. A hand on top of her head pushes mum’s head forward extending her neck. The clippers start with a pop noise then settle down to a low hum. Gran moves in front of me so I cannot see, then I hear the hum change becoming louder and more urgent then quietening back down. Four times this is repeated then gran moves to the side, exposing mum’s freshly shaven neck. The bottom part is just bare skin that fades into the curls level with the top of her ears. This must be what dad meant when he asked for a high taper. Gran’s moved round to the right hand side now and is running the clippers around mum’s ear, tapering in to match with the back, then finishes off the other side; I’m completely shocked at the change in my mum with her new clippered back and sides.

“We just need to finish these bits off,” adds gran.

She inverts the clippers, places them level with the top of mum’s ears, and shaves forward removing completely the shadow of a small side burn from both sides.

With out a word said the clippers are exchanged for scissors and gran goes to work on the top again, taking the hair down to the promised one inch. This makes the damp curls pull in even tighter and as they have been completely removed from the front leave mum with a close, almost afro, look. With no fringe to soften her face at all the damp curls cling together and leave parts of her scalp visible. This is brutally short and the clippered sides and back give mum a more prim and severe look, there is a lot of hair on the gown again, only this time it’s short full curls that have been cut off. Gran straightens the curls where her fringe should have been then puts down her scissors and stands back to admire her handy work.

“I do like to see a lady willing to have a proper cut it makes all the difference to how the finished style sits.”

But she’s not finished yet as Grans picks up a straight razor and bends her head forward again, it’s just edging fortunately and the razor soon produces crisp straight edges around the back and sides.

The taper is really evident now the top has been cut back. Her neck and ears look small and delicate. She doesn’t look like my mum any more, the softness has gone replaced by a harsher looking woman in her mid 50’s going by her hairstyle. The exposed forehead has altered the shape of her face and to be honest this style does her no favours at all, she must feel devastated to have had her looks so altered for the worse – after all no one could want to look older and so prim and proper could they?

While Gran’s admiring her work mum takes the opportunity to feel the shaven neck line Gran’s given her. She looks nervous about touching it and seems shocked when her fingers make contact with the tiny bristles left lower down. She closes her eyes as her fingers move up and down experiencing for the first time the sensation left by a close clippering.

I can’t help but feel the back of my hair covered neck. What it must feel like to have received mums cut?

“The small rollers please,” orders gran. The spell that over came us all is broken and dad starts sorting them on the trolley.

While he does that Gran’s combing another solution on to mums curls, then takes the first roller from him followed by a plastic pick. The roller is fixed and the pick pushed into it. The rollers aren’t that much bigger than normal perm rods and once the top’s covered that’s what gran uses on the sides.

Dad’s passed gran two foam discs and gran puts one over each of mum’s ears then indicates for mum to hold them in place.

Mum’s holding the pads, her heads angled slightly down but I can see her eyes reflected in the mirror. They are looking up into the mirror taking in the image of herself, and there is a look of sadness in them, maybe this isn’t a cut and style she would have chosen for herself. In a way it’s touching, her willingness to sacrifice her hair to make dad happy. It must be nice to be so committed to a relationship that pleasing a partner and putting herself on a tangent to popular culture and fashion, and receiving a harsh outdated hairstyle that will single her out from the mainstream of women her age, who cling on to lank damaged hair long after they should have, just to try to fit in to a culture that accepts only the concept that the styles of youth can be attractive. Well before her bob fitted in: now her shaven back and sides and tiny curls won’t.

Gran’s got a black net now and holds it open between her hands, the front is hooked under the front rollers and she wraps the rest around mum’s head in a smooth practised motion. She ties it at mum’s nape and gives it a extra tighten to make sure it’s holding all the rollers tightly in place. The towel from her shoulders is pulled away and gran gives it a shake, a shower of full damp curls fall to the floor to join the other curls already there.

“That you ready for the dryer then”

Gran lowers the chair so mum can step off. She feels the back of her wrapped rollers now she’s standing, they look very tight. As if reading my mind gran chips in

“You may find a little discomfort at first. You’ve been rolled nice and tight. The better the rolling the more formed the set curl will be. As your hair dries they will pull a little tighter yet.”

Mum doesn’t say a word but using both hands feels the rollers above both ears. Then follows gran over and sits under the centre dryer on which gran is holding the clear visor up. Mum sits down then shuffles her head back under the dryer and the visor is lowered. Gran turns on and mum drops her head back slightly, probably as the warm hair hits her, then closes her eyes for a few seconds. What must be going through her head? Perhaps that last vision of herself in the mirror netted up like one of grans regular pensioners. I wonder what it must feel like to have your damp hair tightly bound up on spiky rollers, be netted, then feel the spikes on your scalp as the hair gets dryer and pulls more.

Looking at the vacant chair it looks a frightening piece of equipment. What must that poor girl with the pony tail have thought when she saw it waiting for her. Involuntarily I feel my plait again. I’ve never had short hair or even thought about having mine cut short, what must it feel like I wonder curiously.

“You’ve got your job to be getting on with” instructs gran. “The floor needs a good sweep and those rods in the sink want rinsing and drying before putting back in the tray, so you’ve plenty to be getting on with” I’m told.

Gran turns to dad now.

“While we’re waiting you can come and have a look at the plug on my lamp.”

Gran and dad leave us and go into the living quarters, leaving mum and me in the shop.

There is quite a bit of hair back on the floor, more than I would have expected after the amount I swept up after the first cut.

I’ll deal with the rods first. They are in the sink straight in front of that chair. I start to rinse them with the shower head from the side of the sink then pick up a towel to dry them. Purely on impulse I sit in the chair. I’ve the towel in my hand and put some rods in it in case gran comes back in. I glance over at mum but her eyes are still closed. So I wriggle back into the chair and put my feet up on the foot rest – my heart is pounding as if I’m doing something I really shouldn’t – hands on the arm rests and look at my reflection. For that young woman this would have been the last time she saw her lovely long hair before it was hacked off. I look down at the footrest and my black stockings against the very old chair. I jump out quickly before anyone spots me.

That’s all the rods back in the tray, on top of the trolley is another net. I pick it up and open it up slightly. What would this feel like, I don’t think the girl found out, gran didn’t mention giving her a set but you never know.

I’d better get this hair swept up quickly.

I start by the chair, there on the shelf are gran’s scissors and those clippers are still plugged in. I pick them up – they’re heavier than I thought they would be and the plastic’s worn very smooth. She must have had these years, the metal blades glint with a fine film of oil, I touch the top of my cheek with them and feel the cold steel. I shiver not from the cold but the thought of these reducing mum’s hair to stubble.

Quickly I sweep the salon, then go and sit next to mum. She opens her eyes as I hold her hand and we sit together and wait for gran to return.

 

We sit quietly for some time. The whir of the hairdryer and the warm air flowing down are relaxing, but I wonder if those rollers tightening as the hair dries allow mum to feel relaxed, or if the pull’s irritating her now as she’s been under a little while now.

 

Gran returns and walks over to us. Without a word she indicates for me to get out of the way so I go back to my seat in the waiting area.

The dryer stops, the visor rises and gran pulls mum’s head forward. She unties the back of the net and inserts her hands to feel the curls. She looks quite firm with her hands and mum looks a bit uncomfortable as her rollers are handled.

However gran’s pleased with the drying and loosely reties the net and sends mum back to the chair.

Dad’s already waiting for her and settles her in the chair then quickly removes all the picks, then the rollers. He’s done this before obviously.

Although the rollers are removed, the hair looks exactly the same, lots of small cylinders in rows over mums head. Mum doesn’t look impressed as this point.

Dad steps back and gran moves in. She picks up a comb with a long tail and starts to work the curls. She isn’t combing them but weaving one into another to break up the edges but still leaving the teased little curls complete. I’ve only ever seen hair like this on very old ladies – never some one mum’s age before. The contrast between the teased curls and the closely clippered stubble around her ears, and the way the back of her neck has been shaped is even more apparent now mum’s hair is a lighter colour now its dry. She’s really had a lot of hair cut off. I’ve seen clippered girls before, in fact it was a fashion a few years back, and I even briefly thought about having mine done, but Dean soon talked me out of it and I carried on growing, but I never expected to see my mum swap her bob for such a severe style.

Grans stood back examining her work and looking pleased with herself.

“That’s a job that’s well done, yes I’m pleased with that” says gran.

“Absolutely beautiful I can’t believe how well you suit this look Denise, thank you for a wonderful present,” adds a beaming dad.

Well I don’t think it suits mum at all. It’s added years to her and made her look so much more serious and matronly, but I’m not going to spoil everything and say all this, instead with as much conviction as I can manage I give her a big smile and say.

“I can’t believe the change. You look so fresh and so beautifully smart and neat”

Mum manages a small smile then chips in

“I’m just glad I’ve been able to give you what you’ve wanted me to have for so long now.”

She runs her fingers up her bare neck

“Well it’s all gone now, no turning back hey”

“Close your eyes dear, we need a good coat of lacquer to seal you in now” chip in gran bringing the conversation to a stop.

Mum gets a heavy coat of old fashioned lacquer from a plastic bottle, not a spray can. Gran finishes and mum starts to remove the towel from her neck.

“Not yet dear you’ve only had one coat; you’ll be needing another so your set lasts”

Mum’s hands drop back down and gran waits a couple of minutes before repeating the process again. There is that much on her hair I can see tiny little drops shining on the curls.

“Now you can get up dear” instructs gran.

Mums rises out of the chair and dad unties her gown and lifts it clear. With the gown out of the way mum’s head looks even barer. There is a lot of thin clean neck on show above the collar of her twin set. Not that long ago mum’s bob brushed along that collar; now her hair’s nowhere near it. Mum was worrying gran was going to cut her very short and not without reason; she certainly has been.

“I’m going to get changed now then we’ll leave,” instructs gran.

That leaves the three of us in the shop.

Dad gets out the car keys and passes them to me.

“Why don’t you get the car, there’s a space outside now.” This is a surprise. I lend mums little car regularly, but normally no one gets near his pride and joy, then I twig he wants me out of the way so he can enjoy mum’s new hair all to himself. Taking a hint I slip my coat on and step out.

Walking down the street I try to take in every thing I’ve just seen; how something as ordinary as a hair cut can have such a effect on the person receiving it, and how a couple of hours can totally change how the world views you, and how mum must be feeling about stepping from the salon with the severe style of a much older lady. I don’t think you could have that done to your hair and not feel totally different about yourself. The street is very quiet with no one else out. Is the poor young woman who gran went to work on sat behind one of these doors, too upset to show her face, embarrassed at letting a pair of old battle axes decide she was having all her lovely long hair hacked off before Christmas? What a present they gave. Her pride and joy and maybe even her identity removed in a scruffy back street hair salon.

 

I manage to park the car without incident then get out. It’s bitterly cold: this will be a shock for mum’s poor ears. The door opens and mum comes out first. Dad’s picking up some bags for gran so together we walk to the car.

“Are you ok mum?”

“Yes dear I’m fine. I’ve been readying myself for this for a few weeks now and to be honest I’m glad its over with. It’s probably not what I would have chosen myself and she didn’t pass up the chance of cutting me very short but I’m sure I’ll soon get used to short hair, although its probably not the best day for your first ever neck shave in this temperature.”

At this we both have a giggle and even with her face fully exposed, where any hint of a fringe has been completely removed, the younger mum shows through for a second, in fact her eyes look much more prominent now any distraction has been cut off.

She runs her fingers onto her neck.

“Now this I wasn’t expecting.”

I gently touch the bottom of her neck and as my finger rises up to the curls I can feel minute little prickly bristles under my finger tips then running them down its so soft and silky so I repeat the process again. I’ve never felt anything like it.

“Wow mum that feels lovely”

“It’s certainly different I must say”

 

We’re on route now. Dad’s back to driving. I think him giving me the keys was a one off.

Gran and I are sat in the back, I’m directly behind mum and can’t take my eyes off her tiny little curls and bare neck, but the thing that stands out most from behind are her bare exposed ears. There is just a little stubble above them that does nothing to help the openness around them. How must she feel?

 

Our visit to Uncle Alan’s was very nice. Mum was the centre of attention and gran sat very smugly as she was shown off like a trophy. She was quite unsubtle in her hint that’s it time aunt Jill sorted her long hair out.  It’s bought it home to me a bit how I’ve separated myself from my family these last couple of years and I need to make amends.

 

I’ve spent the night at mum and dad’s again. I wake early and go down. Both mum and dad are already down, mum’s wearing a full nightdress still the same as mine but the hairnet she’s wearing really catches my eye. I suppose she needs it now to protect her set curls. It’s unexpected though all the same.

We have a nice relaxed breakfast then the business of the day is bought up.

“Well Helen what are your plans for today then?” asks mum

“I haven’t really got any,” I reply.

“That’s good, because I need you to do some thing for me today if you could”

“Sure”

“Your gran has wanted me to go round for a couple of days and sort out her spare quilt. It’s in her junk room and she needs help getting it down, I thought you might take my car and nip around this morning”

“Yes I can do that, in fact I haven’t spent as much time as I should one to one with her lately, just one thing; might I be ok to lend some clothes again?”

“Of course you can, keep this up and I’m going to need to take you shopping just like we used to.”

It will be nice to spend a bit of time with my mum’s mum. She’s always been a lovely gentle lady: the total opposite of my other gran who cropped mum yesterday who, if I’m being honest, always scared me when I was younger and I still find her a bit intimidating.

“Now later we’re going over to the Harris’s for drinks. Will you be coming with us, as I’m sure they would love to see you after all this time?”

“Of course I’ll come. What time are we leaving?”

“We’ll get there for 7:00”

 

Dad has some things to attend to so goes out.

“I’ve sorted you some things out upstairs. Now while I wash up dear, you can get going to Grans”

“Ok it’ll be nice having some time with her. Will you need me after that as I should nip into the flat to sort a couple of thing out?”

“No dear just make sure you’re back in time to get ready”

I think this last statement meant ‘be back so I can make sure you’re suitably dressed to visit our friends’. This gives me a smile.

 

The clothes are laid out for me just what I wanted.

A fresh pair of full sized panties and a old fashioned firm control bra. I soon get these on along with my usual suspender belt. It’s a dark tan today not black like yesterday, I did like those black stockings they made my calves and ankles look very trim.

I’m not moaning though and soon have the stockings on and fastened nice a tight so I can feel them on.

Mums laid me out a simple sweater today which will be more practical if I’ve got to move things for gran, finished with a straight grey skirt.

The French plait has had it’s day and looks a bit battered after another night’s sleep on it, so I undo it and brush my hair out straight behind me. It’s got a nice kink in from the plaiting and shines beautifully. I’ve always been proud of my hair even when I used to dress less fashionably when I was with Dean.

Brushing it all out and taking a lot of pleasure from this makes me think of the poor young woman whose hair was massacred by gran just before Christmas. What would she be thinking now brushing her butchered remains and thinking back to what she had taken from her?

 

I pull up outside the sheltered flats that gran lives in. She moved here about 3 years ago and seems quite happy as she has plenty of friends nearby. However she does tend to horde and moving her into a flat after the space of her old house was a bit of a problem. I’m not surprised she needs help today as the storage space she has is stuffed full.

 

“Oh hello dear I’ll buzz you in” says gran as she answers her door intercom.

It’s a short walk down a corridor to gran’s flat.

“How lovely to see you again Helen, have you come to help me find my spare quilt out? It’s been so cold the last few nights I’m going to lay it over my normal one”

“Yes gran, I thought it would be nice for us to have a bit of time together”

“Lovely”

I slip the coat I’ve lent from mum off.

“I must say my dear it’s so refreshing to see you dressing in a more appropriate manner lately, is this something you’re doing regularly now”

“Well I’ve not been that long changed my style, but I must say I do feel more comfortable at the moment dressing in a more mature way”

“Well I certainly hope you keep it up as I think you look so sweet”

“Thanks gran, now where is this quilt?”

 

Gran’s storage room isn’t big enough to be called a spare bedroom and it’s quite crammed.

“I’ve been meaning to get rid of some of this as I cannot move properly in here”

“How about we have a bit of a sort now then gran, and since I’ve mums car outside, I can get rid of anything you don’t want to keep”

“That would be good Helen”

 

To get gran’s quilt out I’ve had to move three boxes full of clothes and another smaller round cardboard box.

I sort her quilt into a cover and make her bed up. Normally I’d be wearing jeans for something like this, not suspenders, which I can defiantly feel with all the moving around and lifting.

“Now then what’s in these boxes? “

“That one’s got my summer jumpers in. I want to keep that but those other two can go, I don’t want those taken to a charity shop though as its all underwear and I don’t want any of it on show”

Now the round box. There’s a picture on the lid of a woman with a old fashioned hairstyle.

 

 

Gran opens it up and inside is a shortish curly wig.

Gran smiles as she looks at it

“We all used to have these. At one time it was quite a fashion”

I’ve never seen gran with anything but neat short grey hair; never the black curls she’s holding.

“I’ve never seen you in it gran”

“No I haven’t worn it for years, mind this is a good one made with real human hair it wasn’t cheap I can tell you”

“Why don’t you slip it on gran?”

“No I’ve a better idea. Come with me”

I follow her into her bedroom and she indicates for me to sit down at the dressing table.

Without a thought I comply.

“We’ll need one of these” gran says, and opens her drawer and takes out a hair net. She gathers my hair up and stacks it on top then adds a couple of hair pins from the same drawer. She then fits the hairnet tightly over my hair, pulling it back off my forehead and over the top of my ears. This makes me think of mum for an instant as her rollers were bound in a net by my other gran.

With all my long hair under control gran places the wig on me.

What a surprise; I look so different. The curls come back off my forehead and there’s a wispy fringe. The wig covers the top third of my ears. I’ve a perfect rolled under hair line all round. The dressed curls on top seem so strange. This looks a very prim 60’s set but very feminine.

“My you look so smart my dear, absolutely wonderful. Have you ever considered a nice neat hair do before?”

“No gran I haven’t. I don’t think I’m at a point in my life where I’m ready to change my hair.”

“That’s a shame, shorter more controlled hair suits you, I think”

 

I stand and walk over to gran’s full-length mirror on the front of her wardrobe. It takes a second look to take in that the woman looking back is actually me. The colour and shape of the wig make me look at least a good ten years older. I certainly don’t feel attractive but certainly look much more serious and mature. Definitely not the little tart who put herself about a few days ago. I couldn’t imagine the prim lady looking back at me in tan stockings, knee length skirt and sensible sweater throwing herself into a one night stand with a man whose name she doesn’t even know.

 

“Come along now dear, it’s time for coffee in the central lounge. All my friends will be there. It’ll be so nice for them to meet you.”

This catches me off guard. It’s one thing trying on a wig of grans for a bit of fun in her flat, but another matter to be seen like this in public.

“I’ll just slip this off and straighten my hair then gran.”

A look of disappointment crosses her face.

“If you wish dear, only I thought you might like to wear it a bit longer.”

How can I disappoint her I suppose?

Instead I give her a smile and head for her door, a smile spreads across her face and we start down the corridor.

It’s only a silly wig but I’m terrified of what people will think as they see me. This must be similar to what mum’s going through as she has to face the world for the first time with a real old ladies set and perm.

We enter the lounge. By the door is the centre warden. I’ve met her once before when she treated me in an off-hand manner. I didn’t want to meet her again, but this time, maybe it’s my new image, but she’s polite.

Gran takes me over to a group of six old ladies sat in the corner. This must be her regular circle of friends but surprisingly there is a young woman and man with them who are probably just a couple of years younger than me.

I’m really nervous now. What they will think of me a girl in her early twenties dressed like this?

 

The ladies all make a big fuss as we sit down. I make sure it’s knees together and try to sit correctly, grans beaming as she introduces her granddaughter to her friends, its all I can manage to give each a polite nod of my head as I’m introduced. They must think me very quiet and shy.

The young woman and man turn out to be one of the ladies grandsons and his girlfriend visiting. They don’t take much notice of me at first and seem to be getting ready to leave, but then he seems to realise how old I actually am, then instead of not noticing me I get his full attention. His girlfriend doesn’t seem at all impressed with me and continues to gather up her coat but he’s rooted to the spot, it’s a bit uncomfortable the way he’s looking almost in amazement. I didn’t think I’d be catching anyone’s eye in this old fashioned wig. The girl nudges him and whispers something in his ear. She doesn’t look that pleased. They say their goodbyes and leave, but he still looks back at me as they cross the room to leave. I feel a small blush from this attention, but that’s the start of being in the spot light. The ladies now turn their attention on me.

“I must say its so refreshing to see a young lady nicely turned out nowadays, a real credit to you” one says to gran.

“What a lovely set you’ve got dear. Are nice sets coming back into the fashion now?”

“Err no not really” is all I can manage to reply in a quiet voice.

“What a shame. A good cut, and the discipline of maintaining a set, does wonders for setting a girl on the straight and narrow in my experience.”

“Indeed. It’s what a good many could do with these days” replies another.

“Proper dressing supports proper morals” chips in another.

This makes me blush even more. I’m glad gran who’s agreeing with all this has no knowledge of my recent past.

 

Grans asked me to nip out to a nearby shop to get a couple of things for her. I’m not that comfortable walking the street in this wig. Men who would normally follow me with their eyes now don’t even notice me without all my hair trailing behind me, and perhaps I do look much more severe and prim with these curls.

Entering the shop, it’s quite busy, but people seem more polite – those that notice me that is. It’s strange how a different hairstyle and no make up change the attitude people present to me.

 

I’m glad to be able to get away and am heading back to my flat. The back of mum’s car is filled with those three boxes from gran’s, and she’s insisted I keep the wig. I haven’t even taken it off, such was my eagerness to get away before any more of her friends turned up to give me the benefit of their opinions.

It feels a bit heavy, now I think about it, and I just want to get into the flat. I’ve three hours before I need to be back at mum’s to get ready.

 

I manage to get inside without anyone in the other flats noticing me.

My flat’s as I left it. The kitchen’s fine but my bedroom’s a mess with clothes scattered from where I got ready for my fateful night out. Picking them up, they look so unlike what I’m wearing now. I’m certainly not comfortable in these suspenders, but I do feel far more relaxed than I would at the moment, dressed as immodestly as all these clothes would leave me.

I’ve a while before I need to be back at mums so a nice soak in the bath and wash my hair ready for tonight will be nice.

 

Taking off the sweater I’m wearing, and my skirt and slip, gives me a chance to take in the image I now have; a young woman in sensible white underwear, and tan stockings with short curls. I go through to run the bath and on the way see the boxes. I wonder what’s in them.

The first just has some old towels but the other two need more inspection. I carry them back and put them on my bed.

 

Opening the first there’s a large heavy long line bra on the top, the one I’m wearing is large compared to the lacy things I’ve been wearing but this is very thick. There are a couple like this, then some knickers. These are white and silky but massive! I hold a pair up to me. They’ve got legs that finish a couple of inches above my knee.

Digging deeper and there a few more like this.

The second box has a strong looking open-bottom girdle on top. It looks plainer than the one mum had on, and possibly stronger, with six heavy duty suspenders hanging from the bottom. Under this is an all-in-one corselette very similar to mum’s, and at the bottom some stockings still in their packets unopened.

I feel a bit naughty as I take my underwear off, no one can see me but still I feel nervous doing this.

I pick up a pair of the big knickers and pull them on high on my waist then have a look in the mirror; I’ve the face and shapely boobs of a young woman but the knickers and wig look in contrast.

On with the big, long line bra. It’s not really my size; the cups a size too small. Doing the catches up at the back takes a while as there are loads of them, and it comes down to nearly meet my knickers, but the profile this very firm control garment gives me is surprising. I’ve real pointy cones, I have to look in the mirror and turn side on to take it in. Let’s finish this off.

Fastening the girdle gives me a shock it takes a minute to get used to the compression on my stomach and breathe again. My buttocks feel squeezed.

There are a few colours in the stockings but it’s the black ones that catch my eye. These must be quite old judging by the packet. They’re not like the modern nylons I’m used to; these are fitted with a real seam up the back and reinforced toes and heels. These are not very stretchy but look great on and attached to the suspenders, they wrinkle slightly behind my knees as I sit on the bed. Moving to the mirror, what do I think I look like? My posture is so straight thanks to the girdle. That makes me look even more prim. I stand looking at my self for a while, then snap out of it. I need to get ready.

Reaching up, off comes the wig, then the pins and net and I give my long hair a shake. This changes my whole vision. Now I look young again, wearing some strange old underwear.

 

I’ve put all that old stuff back in its boxes and shoved them under my bed. I don’t know why I did this as I’m not expecting anyone at the flat, but still feel uneasy about people knowing what I’ve been trying on.

 

I get back to mum and dad’s in plenty of time.

 

Dad’s downstairs already changed, and I go up to mum who is getting ready.

She’s attaching her second black stocking to her suspenders as I go in. She’s wearing a white corselette again. This makes me think about how those old clothes felt earlier. The eye catching thing is that she’s wearing a black hair net over her little curls still.

“Hello dear, you’re just in time. There’s some clothes over there ready for you”

She goes over to the dressing table while I remove my skirt and blouse.

I know what I want now but struggle to ask.

“Mum, how does that corselette feel?”

“They take a bit of getting used to, but I do quite like the special way it feels now.”

“Might I try one too?”

This request brings a surprised look to her face but this is soon replaced with a little smile.

“If you’re sure you’d like to try one then why not, slip those off.”

She opens her dressing table drawer, rummages in the clothes, and brings out a white, open-bottom, all-in-one girdle, and a large pair of silky white knickers.

 

The girdle feels really tight; just like the one this afternoon, and mum’s fastened it for me. I’ve perfect erect cones again and after putting on some fresh stockings it’s surprising to look into mum’s big mirror and see myself side by side with mum, both in matching sets of quite old fashioned foundations. We look so alike except for her netted little curls and my wavy long hair.

“Sit down mum and I’ll do your hair then you can do mine”

“That would be lovely”

I move behind mum as she looks into the mirror and carefully remove her hairnet. The curls are still perfectly placed and teased.

“This hasn’t moved at all mum; it’s still perfect.”

“I’m not surprised, the amount of lacquer your gran soaked it in”

I can’t resist touching one of the small barrels. It’s absolutely rigid with no movement at all. Her hairs been cut so very short standing over her I can see glimpses of white scalp between the curls, then look at the very faint dark shadow around her ear where a sideburn should be, but not after the shave she received. How must it feel to have some of your hair completely removed as hers has been?

A couple of prods with a tail comb and a squirt of hairspray and she’s done. We quickly change seats.

“What shall I do for you then, madam?” mum says in a humorous way, imitating a hairdresser.

What would I tell a real hairdresser at this moment?

Putting on a posh voice I reply

“I’d like you to make me a nice respectable young lady please. I think it would be appropriate if the hair was worn up this evening”

“Very well madam” she jokingly replies.

Mum parts my hair down the middle then puts it into two braids, which she then draws together and pins into a bun at my nape. The whole effect is quite stark and really exposes my forehead and ears. This would be how I would look with short hair.

Mum’s got some clothes ready for me to wear to the party tonight; a nice pale blue dress with long sleeves, and a full pleated skirt that comes down a mid calf length, and a high collar. There’s a navy jacket to finish off.

 

The party at my parent’s friend’s house is a quiet easy going affair. Everyone’s making a big fuss of mum’s new hair and dad loves it.

We’ve been here a little while when some more guests arrive. I recognise the voices in the hallway as I stand in the kitchen. Oh my its my ex, Dean’s parents. They’re talking to our host, then one sentence makes me go rigid.

“We’ve asked Dean here to pop in for a while as it’s been so long since he’s seen you all” says his mum.

Oh my, what am I going to do? I haven’t seen him since I broke it all of with him and broke his heart, what will his reaction be to seeing me now?

 

I don’t have long to contemplate this before he enters the kitchen to escape his mums talking. He hasn’t seen me yet and I have a few seconds to take it all in. He hasn’t changed at all and I’d almost forgotten how good looking I found him. Then he turns and looks straight at me, he seems unsure what to do and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I sense I need to grasp the moment.

“Hello Dean, it’s lovely to see you, how are you?”

He’s taken aback and it takes a while to answer. My heart stops as I wait. What will his reaction be to the heartless slut who dropped him the way I did? I have this overwhelming urge to drop to my knees before him and ask his forgiveness, and rebuild where we left off. God knows what he’d do if I did. Before any of this happens he composes himself and quietly answers.

“Hello Helen. It’s been a long time”

Before we can say any more a wall of conversation hits the kitchen as our hosts, and my mum, and various other people enter the kitchen to uncover the buffet prepared earlier.

My mum gives me a sideways look, with a small smile on her face as she notices Dean and I were talking.

I look back to where Dean was, as he’s gone. My stomach tightens in the fear that he may have left already unable to stand the sight of me.

The next half hour is a whirl, as if everything’s going on around me as I stand still, then I snap back into reality as Dean comes up to me and speaks.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asks.

We slip out of the party – I hope no one noticed us leaving – and take the short walk to my parent’s house and enter.

We talk for the next hour about everything that happened and I tell him how stupid I’ve been, and ask his forgiveness, and start to cry and cry for the whole terrible way I’ve carried out my life since we split.

He puts his arm round me and looks surprised at the feel of my stiff all in one. I feel as if I need to explain.

“I’ve been dressing differently lately; trying to be more mature and respectable”

“I noticed that when I first saw you tonight. I’ve never seen you dressed like this before. Is this just for tonight or do you wear this type of thing all the time? I must say it looks really fetching, you’ve got the aura of a lady.”

This sounds complimentary and encouraging even.

“I try to dress with decorum in mind all the time now. I’d rather be smart and modest than blindly follow fashion.” It’s a good job he cannot see my wardrobe at the flat, full of tarty exposing clothes, as I make this statement. I sound as if I’ve been dressing like this for months, not just a few days.

“Dean, do you think we could have a chance again?”

“I need time to think about this. It’s all been a big surprise tonight, I need to resolve an issue. You’re just so beautiful I don’t know if I could ever be at rest with you, and not continually looking over my shoulder at who else might be trying to steal you away again. I know you’re dressing differently and that may send out a different message, but you still look so good dressed as you are. Even no makeup only shows off the smoothness of your skin, and with all your lovely long hair you certainly can turn heads. Anyway I think we should go back to the party before we’re missed.

“Just promise me Dean, you’ll see me tomorrow so we can talk through all this?”

“Ok Helen, we’ll talk tomorrow”

 

The rest of the evening flew by and I’m lying here in bed at mum’s, thinking through all that was said. I hadn’t thought of getting back with Dean before tonight, but now I know this is the one thing I really want and need. How could my head have been so turned that I threw away the relationship I had, and made Dean wait, then so carelessly throw away my virginity the way I did, instead of giving myself to some one to whom it would have meant so much?

My thoughts turn now to what I can do to rebuild what we had. The comment he made sticks in my mind, of how he wouldn’t feel confident of us because of my looks and how attractive others might find me. My present style of dress didn’t seem to turn him off me; in fact he was quite complimentary about my dress, and seemed surprised but not put off by the large traditional underwear he noticed when he put his arm around me. The thing that stands out though is the statement about my lovely long hair, and how it can turn heads. I must admit my hair is my finest feature, and is in really good condition and is always earning me compliments. I am always, without thinking, playing with it; twirling sections around my fingers. I know a recent boyfriend commented on this and found it a come on. Maybe Dean does too, and worries I send out the wrong message of being available by flaunting my shiny long hair.

Maybe if I wear it up all the time he’ll feel less threatened. Then another thought crosses my mind and my heart stops as I think it. What if I had my hair cut short?

 

My mind seized for a few moments as this bombshell sunk in. Short hair seems to be fashionable at the moment; in fact a couple of my friends have short hair and look very edgy and trendy. The next question is would he find this edginess as much of a threat as my present style, in which case I’d be losing my soft long hair for no gain.

Then it comes to me. I would have to have a more old fashioned plain short cut to achieve the peace of mind I need. How do I feel about that? Am I prepared to sacrifice something I treasure as much as my lovely hair, to get him back? How badly do I want him back?

 

After just a couple of minutes my heart gives me the answer, I want him more than I want long hair, and if a cut is what’s needed, then a cut I shall have, and as soon as possible and as plain and short as is necessary to get the job done. My heart’s pounding now with nerves at the conclusion I’ve reached. Have I the nerve to go through with this? I’ve never had short hair in my life. the last time I had a makeover it was to increase my attractiveness, not remove it as much as possible. But by doing this I would be demonstrating my commitment, and hopefully this would tip the balance in his mind, and convince him I have matured and am no longer the silly young girl I was before. Maybe this will also be a message to my parents that those wild times are definitely behind me, and their loving sweet daughter has come back to them. It would be worth losing this hair just to show mum and dad.

That’s it then; I’m having this done, tomorrow if possible.

 

This brings me my next problem; what style? I could have a smart bob like mum used to have, but would this be enough of a statement? And is it suitably plain to meet my needs?

No it wouldn’t be.

How about one of those short urchin cuts?

Too edgy.

How about one of those short style, with a tapered back and sides, some of the older ladies have?

Possibly but being clippered would be scary.

Then the really scary thought crossed my mind; a short perm like mum’s just had.

Dean seemed to like it; he commented a couple of times earlier how good she looked.

Dad would love it.

Mum would be pleased, I’m sure. I certainly couldn’t go back to my old ways looking like that.

It would certainly fit the plain and respectable needs.

But what would people think of a young woman like me with a seriously dated hair style like that? Perhaps, though, it’s only the people I don’t need around me, and have caused me so many problems, who would have a problem, and they’re not the people I need to do this for.

I think back today to when gran slipped that wig on me. How did that make me feel, and how did people react to me? And could I walk into work in a couple of days time, when the Christmas and new year shut down is over, dressed and permed like a woman much older than me?

I need to sleep on this.

 

I haven’t managed to sleep that well, and get up earlier than I planned. I’ve just heard dad going out. He’s having a day’s golf with a few of his friends today, so it’ll just be me and mum when I go down. Even so I still hold back from leaving the room, and go and sit in front of the dressing table mirror instead. My hair’s down all around me but instead of brushing it as I would normally do, I pull it all back leaving my face, ears and neck fully exposed. This is how I’d look with all my hair cut off. The pony feels heavy in my hand there is an awful lot of hair pulled back. Can I do it to myself?

Do I want to do it?

What will people think of me?

Will it get me Dean back?

What if I don’t do it?

Would my family like it if I cut my hair?

Do I need this to help me move my life on?

All those questions, and the answers in my heart, lead me to one conclusion: my hair is going to be cut and cut very short.

Where should I go?

If I tried my normal hairdresser he’d just talk me out of it and give my long hair a trim, or if I was very insistent I might get a trendy bob.

Where could I go? Then I remember the hair in grans shop, cropped from the head of that poor young woman dragged there by her mother in law. I bet she got just the sort of plain, neat cut I’m thinking I need to make me more the ordinary girl Dean wants. So that’s it. I need to phone gran and put my hair in her hands.

So if I’m to do this, dare I have it just like mum’s? That would really take me into the plain Jane mode. How would I look with little tight curls like mum’s? And what about my neck and sides being shaved the way mum’s were, as I’ve a feeling gran wouldn’t hold back if I were in that old chair of her’s.

I can’t help feeling my nape now, with all the smooth long hair coming from it. How would I handle it being as smooth and cold as mum’s felt when she first came out of the hairdressers shop?

If I need to do this, I can do this. Come along Helen, it’s only a hairstyle, I tell myself. Millions of women have had their hair cut short before you, and it’s time you grew up.

That’s it then. I know what I must do, but can I find the courage to carry me through?

I’ve dressed quickly and gone down into the kitchen. It’s still early and mum’s up making tea in her dressing gown and hair net.

“You’re up and dressed early today dear.”

“Yes mum, I’ve quite a lot to get done.”

“Something interesting?”

“Well, something scary actually”

“Really, what could that be?”

“I’ve decided I’m going to have my hair cut.”

“Well that shouldn’t be scary, you have that done regularly.”

My heart starts to quicken as I brace myself.

“This time I want my hair cut very short, just like yours has been, and I’d like gran to do it.”

Mum just looks at me for a few seconds in shock.

“I see. And what has bought his decision about?”

Good; she’s not trying to talk me out of it, so I tell her all about last night, and how I want to change totally my life and appearance.

“Have you really thought this out dear? Having gran crop your hair off will be a dramatic change for you. You’ll look and feel a lot different with one of her simple short hairstyles. Are you really ready for that?”

“Yes mum. I have thought of nothing else, and I’m ready for it, I need this long hair taken away to move forward. If I left it long I’d always have the option of simply changing my clothes and reverting back to the seedy life style I’ve led too long. I don’t want that choice anymore. A simple head of curls like yours will rule me from those people I used to go around with, drawing me back in.”

“You seem adamant about this, as if your mind’s really made up.”

“Yes mum, it is. I know what I must do, even though I must say I am more than a bit scared by it all.”

“Did I hear you right just then? Did you say simple head of curls? Do you mean you want a perm as well as a cut?”

“Yes mum. If I’m doing this then I want to go all the way, and yes I really am sure I want a perm too.”

“Now I’m not trying to change your mind, but I want you to sit down with this tea, and make sure you’re ready for a old fashioned look like mine, as once all that lovely hair’s gone it’ll be a long time before you grow it back, especially if gran gets her scissors on it. She certainly wont hold back if you put your hair in her hands. I’m just not sure you’re ready to give up so much, and accept how a hair style can change more than just your reflection in a mirror. And I should know, because I’m not in my twenties, and this style has taken me some getting used to.”

“It’s because I know gran won’t hold back that I want her to do it. Yes, I know it’s going to be strange to be a young woman with a very short traditional perm, but I need to feel different about myself, and I need something to remind me how I should be living now, and I know the discipline of a short perm will do that for me.”

“Well, if your mind’s made up, do you want me to phone gran for you? I know how scary you find her.”

“Yes please mum. I must confess she has always scared me a bit, and she’ll probably have me terrified when she starts shaving me with her clippers, but she’s the hairdresser for this job.”

“You want to be shaven like I was too?” mum seems surprised by my statement.

“Yes mum. Like I said I don’t want her to hold back at all, and you can tell her that too.”

“Well dear, it’s your hair, or lack of it as the case may be.”

 

Although it’s early mum knew that gran will be up, so gave her a ring. I didn’t hear the conversation as she used the phone in the hall.

 

“You’re in luck young lady. Gran wasn’t going to open this afternoon, but will do your hair for you. You need to be there at 1pm, so you’ve still time to think this through.”

“I know what I want mum, now more than ever”

“I just hope you’re really sure as once it’s done, it’s done for a long time to come.”

“Yes mum. This is not so much what I want as what I need”

 

I’ve lent mum’s car, and come back to my flat. I’ve a full day today. Mum’s going to come with me when I have my hair done, but wont be able to stop for long, as she has to take my other gran for an appointment at her clinic, so I’m ok to get there, I just need to get back, I need to spend this morning sorting my flat.

I’d like to come back here later with Dean so we can have a nice long undisturbed talk. I phoned him a few minutes ago and arranged for him to meet me at gran’s shop. I haven’t told him why I’ll be there so it’s going to be a bit of a surprise for him.

Entering my flat my first problem appears. I’ve clothes all over my sofa but they’re not the sort of clothes I should be letting him see if I want to keep up my new image with him. I’ll have to sort something out for work too, I can’t keep lending mum’s all the time.

A good hours work and all my tarty clothes are hidden away in a black bag in the bottom of my wardrobe. I need a cup of tea but as I haven’t been here for the last few days the milk has gone sour, so I’m popping out to get some fresh from the small parade of shops nearby.

Walking towards the newsagents I pass a charity shop I’ve passed times before, but never have I paid any attention to it before. What catches my eye now is a nice formal classic grey skirt suit in the window. It looks my size. Why not try it on?

 

Entering the shop I’m greeted by a old lady with a warm welcoming smile.

“Good morning dear, may I help you”

“Err yes please. I’d like to try on the suit in the window please.”

“Certainly my dear it looks just your size, a particularly well made item I think. It’s nice to see a younger lady interested in such clothing.”

“Thank you, I need to change my wardrobe to reflect my self now”

“Well let’s see what I can do to help dear”

 

I’ve spent a good hour in the shop and the suit fitted a treat, and looked very prim when combined with a nice plain white blouse with a bow at the high collar, and finishing just below my knee. The lady also found me out quite a few suitable items to kit me out, and I leave clutching three carrier bags full of prim traditional ladies clothing. I’m wearing the suit and a pair of flat lace up black ladies brogues. I keep looking down at them as I can’t quite believe how I look.

 

As I’m leaving the shops someone calls out my name behind me.

“Helen, stop!”

It’s one of my friends, Marie. She hurries and catches up with me.

I didn’t really want to see her at this moment; the last time we spoke was on Christmas eve as she encouraged me to go off with the doorman at the end of a drunken night. I don’t want reminding of any of that. But she has other ideas and leads me into a handy coffee shop so she can find out where I’ve been.

 

“So Helen, where are you off to dressed like this?” Marie asks as we sit down with our coffees.

“Nowhere special really this morning, I’ve just been getting some shopping in”

“What, dressed like my gran? What are you up to girl?” she asks as if I’m up to some sort of scam.

“Like I said; just a quiet morning. I’ve turned over a new leaf after the last time we were out. In fact I’m quite ashamed of how I’ve been carrying on lately and so I’ve decided that my life is going to change, and to start with, I now dress in a more modest lady like way.”

Marie looks at me in amazement.

“So this is what happens when you have sex with a doorman then” she tries to joke.

“I just want to put all that shame behind me now and move forward, hopefully with the support of my friends”

“Yes we’ll support you but don’t think I’m going to join you” she replies still trying to joke but I don’t feel in the mood to laugh about these things.

“So you won’t be coming out tonight then, we’re all meeting early to make a full night of it, and we should be finishing at that new place in town. Why don’t you just come for a while early on as you’ve nothing on this afternoon?”

“I didn’t say I had nothing on this afternoon, in fact I’ll be quite busy”

“What are you up to then?”

I may as well just tell her as she’ll soon find out next time she sees me, although just talking about it is making me nervous.

“Well this afternoon I’m going to be having my hair cut”

“Well that’s ok Helen because that salon you go to isn’t far from where all the girls are meeting”

“Marie, I won’t be going to my usual salon, in fact I won’t be having my usual style either. To come to the point, I’m having my hair cut very short, then permed in a traditional ladies style by my gran, who has an old fashioned hairdressers shop”

“Are you joking? First the Sunday school teacher’s clothes, now an old fashioned perm?”

“No I’m deadly serious; all this long hair is being cut off.”

“Why are you doing this to your self Helen? clothes are one thing but to ruin your lovely long hair on some temporary whim is madness. What do you think you’ll look like? No man is going to want to be seen with you looking like that.”

“Yes he will. The man I’m doing this for is far better than the type who can only see displayed flesh, and want a trophy with long hair to show off. He can see the real me.

This is what I want now; a relationship built on respect and feeling, not a shameful series of casual sexual flings. The price of that is showing my commitment, and if the sacrifice of my hair is what’s needed then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” I sound much surer than I feel at this point, and the negative attitude Marie has to my haircut will probably be reflected by a lot of people I will come across. Am I sure I want to be so different to every one else my age?

 

The coffee doesn’t last too long and I’m glad to be back on my own in the quiet of my flat. I’ve not that much time left till I need to be back for mum, so I’d better start putting all these new clothes away. If someone had told me a couple of weeks ago I’d be completely restocking my wardrobe with all these high quality, but very sensible and modest, skirts dresses and blouses, I would have thought them mad.

Now what shall I wear to have my hair cut and meet Dean after? My thoughts are drawn to the all in one girdle I got from grans box yesterday, but I don’t want to scare Dean off with something that extreme, so I just keep mum’s underwear on but change the tan stockings for those old black ones with the seams. These look great with a nice navy skirt I just got, and a plain white blouse. Very neat. I give my hair its last nice long brush and decide to wear it down this last time. As the time to leave approaches I become so much more aware of all my hair and how it hangs in front of my face as I lean over to lace my flat shoes. My hearts pounding now, and my tummy’s tight as the nerves start to build. What sounded a good decisive thing to do this morning is very scary now, as the time to lose all my lovely hair approaches.

 

I’m pulling up outside mum’s now and my nerves are jangling. It’s strange; when I had a tattoo, which is absolutely permanent and actually hurt me, I didn’t have such strong emotional feelings as I am now, for a hair cut, which, looking at the big picture really isn’t permanent, as it will grow back eventually. Maybe having a tattoo fits in with popular culture whereas a short tight perm would put me outside of mainstream culture.

 

No need to turn off the engine as mum must have been watching out for me and come straight out of the house and gets in.

“Well then Helen are you ready for this” mum asks

“Yes mum, its time I did this”

The remainder of the journeys quiet, I’m to nervous to make conversation and mum picks up on this and leaves me in silence.

The streets quieter this time and we manage to park out side gran’s shop.

As I take the keys out mum runs her fingers through my hair for one last time.

“It’s a shame in a way to have all this lovely hair cut off, but if it what you need to do then lets get it over with” mum says with sadness in her voice.

“Now I’ll have to leave shortly, will you be ok to get back”

“Yes mum, I’ve phoned Dean and he’ll pick me up here later”

“It’s going to be quite a surprise for him, I just hope its one he’ll be able to handle” is mums last comment before we get out the car.

I follow her into the salon and my eyes are fixed on her tiny curls and her long bare neck, a faint shadow is just starting to show and she’ll need to be shaved again before to long. Then a gust of wind catches my long hair and I feel it move behind me and the feeling of that movement and the sight of the rear of mums totally exposed ears and the tiny bristles that are all that’s left now of the soft hair that used to skim her shoulders gives my stomach a extra tighten as I’m looking at what I’ll look like soon.

 

The smell hits again as we go in gran must be out the back and we have the salon to our selves.

“Take your coat off dear” mum tells me

I do this and hang it up this gives me a full view of my self in a mirror, a young primly dressed woman with shiny wavy hair full of body hanging all round her.

I’m snapped back into the present when grans loud forceful voice rings in my ear.

“Right then young lady you need all that hair sorting out do you, well I’ll certainly do that for you”

She doesn’t wait for me to answers, a gown is held in front of me the same shabby gown that mum wore.

“Lift that hair up”

I comply with grans instruction and the gowns knotted firmly around my neck and my hair falls back down over it.

She points to her chair and I walk over and sit feeling very subservient.

I’ve sat here briefly the other day but then it felt exciting in a strange way now it’s terrifying, the gowns just covering my knees and lifting my feet on to the foot rest my stockings crinkle slightly behind my knee.

“Now what was it you had in mind again” gran asks

I notice she say “had in mind” not “what do I want” insinuating she will have the final word.

In a hesitant voice I manage to get the words out “I’d like my hair cut short and permed like a mums has been”

“Like your mums you say, well I can do that but are you prepared for the same nice short curls I’ve given her theirs no changing your mind once I start you know”

“Yes I’m prepared”

“And a proper finish around the neck and ears to”

Before I can answer mum butts in.

“Perhaps the edges can be left till the end and Helen can decided then”

Gran raises her brows with a look of disapproval

“Very well then, let’s get started”

 

The chair lurches up four times as gran raises me to her working height, this puts my view in the old slightly tarnished mirror straight in the centre my hairs spread all around me and looks really long now.

Gran comes round to the front and picks up her comb, walking back behind me she plants the comb high and draws it straight down in one movement my hair pulls twice as the comb passes through, she repeats this all round I hold my head rigidly as she pulls through any tangles and tightly grip the arms of the chair.

With out a word the combs put down and scissors picked up she starts at my crown and lifts up a two foot section of hair between her fingers which are no more than three inches from my head and with one movement and a shh noise followed by a metallic click as the scissor handles come together she cuts off the first section it falls to my left and floats down onto my gown and stops in my lap, the sight of my hair resting on the cloth freezes in shock but grans already cut the next piece which falls behind me out of sight, I close my eyes to try to stop the tears that are forming in my eyes and the sound of the scissors closing repeats over and over again.

I’ve managed to hold back the tears and when I open my eyes I’m shocked to see the cutting is at a stage were it looks like a extreme feather cut the top is very short as is my fringe but I’ve still long hair over my ears the gown is now covered with my lovely hair and moving my shoulders slightly send large sheets of hair falling to the floor. She’s at my right ears now and makes short work of fully exposing my ear and working all round it leaves it exposed and contrasting with the long hair still covering my other ear. As she moves to the other side I catch sight of mum in the mirror she’s stood just behind us and is wiping a  tear for her own eye and looks a little emotional this surprises me she sat almost emotion less while her own hair was cut but is upset at my long hair being shorn. Gran on the other hand is far from upset and has a slight smile showing she’s enjoying this.

As the hair falls and the scissors click I reflect on the change that’s taking place I don’t want this haircut but at the same time I want it done as if to punish my self for the life I’ve lived lately and the removal of this glamorous hair to be replaced by a severe prim perm is in a way my penance.

 

Gran puts down the scissors

“I’ve got to go now and deal with you’re other gran Helen” mum says.

She comes up to me and ruffles my now short hair and kisses me quickly on the cheek. With out another word she leaves I’ve a feeling she’s about to start crying. Do I really look so bad with short hair or is it just the shock of seeing me like this after all those years long.

Before I can ponder this question gran starts to talk.

“now that’s nice and short it must feel better already, now I’ve let you off lightly and not taken you as short as you’re mum had hers and I’d normally take one of my perm ladies, as you youngsters don’t seem to have the self discipline for a proper cut now a days so if you’re not having the edges properly finished we’ll need the top a bit softer”.

This is the fork in the road I can go two ways, option one have a nice short perm like she’s talking about now I’ll look much different to how I came in but not be as short or harsh as mums.

Or I can go the whole way and have the clippers used and the top shorter both options will meet my needs as far as Dean is concerned. Dare I do it?

 

“Gran I don’t want the softer version, cut me as short as you can for this type of style and I want the back and sides shaved please”

This statement took some getting out and now I can’t believe what I’ve just asked for.

“Good so it’s to be the full works then, are you sure”

“Yes”

She picks the scissors back up and lifts the section she started with and in one movement halves the hair she’s lifting up leaving a short one and a half inch layer. My heart stops for a second as the reality of how little hair she intends to leave me with sinks in.

The rest of my once luscious hair receives the same treatment and ten minutes later I’m looking at the reflection of a young woman with a very short one length boy’s haircut such a contrast to the long haired girl I was when I sat here not that long ago.

“That’s looking better dear, now let’s get you washed”

A shabby grey towel is draped over my shoulders and gran firmly grasps the back of my head and pushes me forward into the stained sink.

This is a new uncomfortable experience I’m leaning over waiting as gran runs the water and waits for it to warm up, then without a word she turns in onto me and it runs down over my face as I quickly close my eyes.

The shampoo’s on now and for an old lady grans got really strong fingers this is the most vigorous wash my hairs ever had.

Short hair is a lot easier to wash than my long hair was and grans soon finished my scalps tingling from the energetic scrub it’s had.

 

Sitting back up a quick rub with the towel and its laid back over my shoulders, my hair is sticking out in clumps and looks shorter than I was expecting, have I done the right thing here maybe I should have had the softer version gran spoke of before I stepped in with my big decision. What do I look like a young woman like me shouldn’t be in a run down old fashioned pensioners place like this, should I?

All this doubt comes to a head and the tears just flow I can’t stop them, I’m crying for my lovely hair that’s just been hacked off, I’m crying for the life I’ve led lately and I’m crying for every one I’ve let down mum, dad, dean even gran stood now waiting for my sobbing to stop.

Pull your self together Helen; think about why you need this.

This pause brings focus back and I know I need this done now, the line has now been drawn under my past and its lying in heaps all round this chair, if I had gran give me a softer less prim and more attractive cut then my self punishment just wouldn’t be the same, and for this to work I need gran to be hard on me.

I sit up straight and have a hard look at my self

“Sorry about that gran I’m over it now and I still need you to give me the full cut perm and shave”

There I’ve said it and mean it.

Gran says nothing just give a knowing grin and pulls over a trolley of perm rods.

“Same size as your mums then” she asks

“Unless you’ve any smaller” my determination kicks in.

“Are you sure”

“Yes”

She puts the trolley back and goes over to a cupboard and brings out a tray of very small rods”

“Your mum had very small rods but these are the smallest, I don’t get to use these very often these days, to produce the right look I’ll need to take you a bit shorter than you’re mums cut are you prepared for that”

Shorter than mum I’ll not have much left, decision yes or no.

“That’s what I want please gran”

 

Grans making short work of winding the tiny perm rods into my hair, I pass a paper to her to wrap each with and wince as she gives each a final twist to really tighten my hair around them, my scalps hurting a bit were the rods have been placed so far and as she works down the side the skin is stretched around my ear such is the tightness.

“I think we need a few more than normal which is good” gran breaks the silence and goes back to the cupboard she fetched the rods from.

She back now with a second tray and goes straight back to work

“This should be lovely when we’ve finished, with how thick you’re hair is I’ve managed to fit in 25 more rods than I’d usually use for a perm, with the extra to be cut off you’ll look super”

I don’t look super at the moment in fact I look quite strange, the pull of all those rods that have been so tightly wound is pulling my skin tight around my face and its very uncomfortable. What am I doing to my self?

Gran doesn’t seem to notice I’m not replying she just keeps talking away

“Now you’re having the same very strong solution I used on your mother but as your hairs so much younger and can take a bit more damage than hers we’ll put a bit of heat onto it so it bites in that bit more.

I’m in a high strung state to start with but this last statement scares me mums hair was really tight when the rods came out if gran’s giving mine more bite is she going to completely fry my poor hair, what condition will it be in when all this is finished, the tears start to build again, I close my eyes and try to fight them back and bite on my bottom lip as they come over me like a wave.

 

“If you’ve finished I’ll continue then” is grans harsh response to my over flowing emotions.

I pull my self together.

She’s working over my rods again and is giving a few a extra little tighten which gives me a sharp pain were my hairs straining at the roots.

 

Grans wrapped a cotton wool strip around my hair line just as she did for mum. Just as she’s about to apply the solution the door opens, I turn to see who it could be as I didn’t think gran was open this afternoon for her usual customers and the last thing I want is strangers here as I go through all this, but before I can move gran firmly grips my head and points it back to the front,

“Head still if you please”

“Ah Aida I’m glad you popped in I wanted a word” says Gran

I can see the visitor now in the mirror she’s a rather tall thin stern looking lady at first glance she looks quite old but actually I think she’s about mums age, what stands out most is her hair its steel grey and very short and curly on top, tighter even than mums this stops my heart for a moment as my curls will be tighter than mums also but what stands out is the sides and as she moves I get a glimpse of the back they are completely bare she just has a tight helmet of tiny curls on the top it makes mums harsh new cut look  almost soft.

“A new customer” she asks, obviously gran knows this lady quite well.

“This I’m pleased to say is my grand daughter Helen, and all this hair on the floor was hers, she’s getting a proper hair do today”

“I’m pleased to see another young lady’s joining the ranks of your customers, it’s a same more haven’t. Any I just popped in to thank you for the excellent job you did the other day on my daughter in law that cut was long over due and she looked so much better for a good old fashioned neat style, well I’ll leave you to it looks like you’re doing another good job”

“Thank you Aida I’m glad your pleased with the result you’ll have to bring her in again next time she’s here to make sure she doesn’t slip back into her long haired ways again”

 

Aida’s left and grans soaking my rods in solution now the liquid is cold and makes me shudder and she’s really soaking the rods.

 

The bottles empty now and she places it on the counter top, the takes a plastic cap and covers over my hair.

The chair lowers

“Over here then, we’ll have some heat now”

I rise from the chair and more cut hair falls from the nylon gown looking down all my lovely soft hair is over the floor and I look down at my stocking’s and laced flat shoes as I have to walk through the long tresses lying like autumns fallen leaves.

A hood dryer waits for me with the visor raised the gown is rustling with each step.

 

The visor lowers and the heat starts to come through, sat here I’ve a view of the salon the wooden chairs I sat on last time as mum sat here, I never dreamed at the time that I would have been sat here under this dryer, the big chair looks strangely empty but surrounding it rests my cut off hair theirs so much of it limply discarded over the bare wooden boards, I expected gran to sweep it all up but she just leaves it and leaves me alone in the salon, looking at all my hair makes me think of the long soft hair that was in grans bin when I swept up mums hair, the cut hair was probably as long as mine lying on the floor is how has the young woman who had all that hair cut off coped with the aftermath of a visit to grans shop. I’m here through my own decision but that poor woman was dragged in by that overbearing old bat that came in earlier, I wonder how the young woman’s hair was styled I hope it wasn’t shaved like her mother in laws has been though I cannot imagine gran letting her off with any thing other than a very short neat style.

This brings me back to my own situation, I’ve asked gran to go to town on me I’m already getting shorter tighter curls than mums, and have asked for the clippers to, have I gone to far.

 

I have my moments of doubt then remind my self why I’m here and that I deserve every thing that I will receive.

 

It’s getting very uncomfortable my scalp feels like its burning it must be time surely, grans not back yet so I’ll not complain and steel myself to endure this.

The wait for gran to return is hell the smell is very strong and unpleasant; I really want this stuff washed off my head as soon as possible.

 

At last she’s back and the motor stops and the visor rises

“Lean forward please” I do as I’m told and the plastic cover is pulled back at the front. Grans unwinding one of the curls, then winds the rod back in.

“These curls have taken very well, right lets have you back over their then” and gestures to the chair.

 

The water running over the rods is a relief and couldn’t come soon enough, but the next part of the ordeal starts wile my heads down in the sink with out a word of warning a freezing fluid is put on my head, the smells awful

“Keep still until I tell you, the neutraliser needs time to work now”.

 

This is  uncomfortable the experience of being in grans salon is nothing like my usual place were every things set out to make it a pampering not an endurance like this is, still if mum managed then so can I.

 

This is it then I’m sat back up gripping the arms of the chair as my nerves are on edge I haven’t seen the result yet as my heads covered in a old faded green towel, grans seems very pleased with the result as she rinsed then removed the rods that are now all in the sink in front of me.

“Right then my dear time to show you these nice little curls of yours then”

The towel is pulled off.

OH MY GOD

My heart stops for an instant with the shock, this doesn’t look like me at all, oh what have I done to my self.

I calm my self down quickly and try not to show my shock to gran who’s standing behind me with a big grin and is running her fingers through her handy work, were it all looked so short before it now looks even shorter and has pulled back right off my face and clear of my ears, the little curls are so tight and as its wet still some of the curls are sticking together and I can clearly see my naked scalp through, my breathing returns to normal this is going to take some getting used to.

“Well what do you think then?”

“Err lovely gran just what I wanted” I blurt out I’m not sure it is but cannot think of a way to put my mixed up emotions into words.

“I’m glad your pleased Helen so we’ll carry on then shall we”

“Err yes please”

Gran picks her scissors and comb back up

“Now you’ve opted for the very tight curls I’m going to have to take you shorter than we originally planned, but you will carry off the length beautifully I think”

She’s combing out sections now and cutting off about another half of an inch this is quite a lot considering how short my hair is after the first cut, this time instead of long straight sections sitting on my gown the hairs falling as tight little curls, grans working very fast as her years of experience show.

“Now I’m leaving only just enough so we can get a small roller in shortly as you do want a nice smart set for a finish don’t do dear”

I don’t think from her tone that the last statement was a question she expected me to answer as she seems to have made her mind up what I’ll be getting as a finish.

She puts down the scissors with a satisfied nod of her head.

The result is a very short tight afro type style.

“Now I’ll sort those edges out now you said you were ready for a proper styling earlier, the softer option your mum mentioned wouldn’t really work for you now I feel, now do we give you the same as your mum had”

I don’t answer for a moment and grans turned her back as she plugs in the big clippers she used on mum. I touch the back of my head for the first time and feel the springy little curls at the nape of my neck do I want them shaved off as my mums have been, I don’t know why but the image of the lady who came in earlier pops into my mind her stark bare high sides and back harsher even than mums but strangely attractive in a weird way, how would I look shaven as she had been, could I pull off such a severe shaving.

This is the moment do I go for it, will I be disappointed if I don’t, and will I be in shock if I do.

“Well Helen I’m waiting”

“I don’t want it the same as mums”

Before I can finish what I was about to say gran buts in

“This is no time to be changing your mind young lady and messing me around”

“If I could just finish gran, I was about to ask if it would be possible to have mine shaped the way the lady that came in earlier had been done, I know it’s a bit harsher than mums but I want this makeover to be a statement”

I don’t know were that statement came from and I’ve surprised my self with it, oh my what have I said.

This changes Grans attitude.

“Yes I can certainly do that for you” and with out another word she picks up her clippers and removes the plastic guard the ominous thing is she doesn’t replace it.

They start with a loud pop noise and my heart quickens as they settle in to a low buzz,

My heads pushed forward just like mums was and I’m looking down at my old fashioned shoes and stockinged ankles, then the cold steel rests on the bottom of my neck the pressure builds till she’s firmly pressing them on and they start to rise the note changes this must be them biting into my hair line she keeps going higher and higher then suddenly the pressure drops and the note changes, a large clump of wet curls clinging together fall over my shoulder run down the gown and rest on my left shoe, full curls, the process is repeating again and again its actually quite a pleasurable feeling.

A firm hand grips my head and pulls it up then pushes it over to the right the clippers don’t switch off but I can see what’s happening now, she places them at the bottom of my sideburn and runs straight up the hairs collecting on the clippers she stops well above my ear the flicks the hair off with a movement of her wrist before I can take in the result she folds down my ear and runs around it to join up with the first pass, a succession of quick passes and that sides done, my ears completely on it own without any hair any were near it the skin is pure white were light has never reached before its so different having bald skin were long hair used to be.

She’s soon done my other side and finished off.

Tentatively I lift my hand to my neck its so smooth and cold I run my fingers round the tops of my ear and the skin is so smooth then run the other way and can feel minute little bristles that send a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t worry dear we’ll get rid of those little bits later”

This is it I’m now well shaved no turning back now, has changed my whole look again I now look much more prim and stark with just a bowl of tight curls starting a good inch above my ears and my forehead completely on show as my fringe has disappeared.

 

“Final part now dear a nice neat set to finish you off properly”

Grans pulled over a tray of very small rollers but first picks up a plastic bottle with a long spout and proceeds to coat my hair in the strongly perfumed liquid contained in it, then starting in the middle of my fore head winds one in tightly I can feel the little spikes on in on my sensitive scalp this is secured with a little plastic pick and she places a row straight back over my head. The following rows follow on from the first she works with the speed and precision that years of setting ladies hair gives, very soon my head is covered the rows form so I’ve perfect rows going back and the rows match up across this seems to please her, more of the lotion is now applied I’ve really had a soaking in this stuff.

Being set in rollers seems even stranger that the perming I suppose this is what will set me apart from other young women who have naturally curly hair and just happen to have it cut very short for convenience, setting will be a statement that I really did want my hair to be the same as the harsh styles worm by some old ladies.

The rollers aren’t comfortable but at the same time strangely pleasurable, there being finished off now I’m having to hold a foam pad over each ear as Grans pulls a black net across my for head it goes under my ears and is secured at the back.

My first time wearing a hair net the reflection takes me by surprise a young woman wrapped up just like a pensioner.

Gran lowers the chair again as I ready my self to move back under the dryer passing through all the cut off hair of mine seems different this time last time I’d just been taken from a attractive woman with long flowing hair this time I’m a woman who doesn’t look anything like as attractive as I did wrapped tightly in a hairnet with her rollers in, its strange but all this hair on the floor doesn’t feel like mine any more.

 

I make my self comfortable under the dryer then grand starts it up there are some old magazines but I can’t concentrate on any thing at the moment such is the roller coaster my emotions are going through, the heat is really relaxing and I can see how ladies can look forward to this experience every week. Grans having a sweep up and brushing long sections of my hair from around her chair when collected together it forms a shockingly large heap the colour reflects in the light just as it did when it hung from me, its sad that this was my pride and joy and pampered until it was all simply cut off and discarded not long ago.

 

This brings in my next worry, all that lovely hair defined who I was and what if Dean doesn’t like what I am now, I had this cut following our conversation last night but it was him who encouraged me to grow my hair so long, what if he only likes really long hair and I certainly don’t have that any more.

 

I’ve sat here for a while now and must be nearly dry by now, grans gone off and left me alone.

My hairs still lying in its pile I can’t help but stare at it, perhaps that’s why she’s left it were it is to show me her work.

The door opens it’s not time for Dean to come yet is it, I don’t know if I want him seeing me like this!

There must be a buzzer or something in grans living area as she’s soon in to see who it is, I can’t hear any thing that’s being said under here. Grans speaking to him and he seems nervous coming in here, he must have asked gran about me as she’s pointing straight at me. Dean doesn’t seem to understand for a moment he probably expected to pick me up after I’d had a cup of tea with my gran not walk into a old ladies hairdressers and see me rollered and netted under a hood dryer, he gives me a little wave and I smile back at him before gran ushers him over to the chairs I sat on while waiting for mum.

My hands are shaking with nerves now he’s here and I can’t take my eyes of him as I try to judge his reaction to what he’s seen so far.

He looks around taking the salon in then his face changes as he notices the pile of my hair, his mouth is open in shock, he looks at me then gestures at the pile then points at me then holds a hand by his head and mimes scissors cutting.

I bite my bottom lip to keep calm as I nod my head to let him know that all that hair was mine.

He freezes for a moment then nods back to tell me he understands.

He quickly gets up, what is he doing, oh no I hope he’s not walking out.

He picks up a long section of my hair from the floor; it must have been one of the first sections she cut as its full length.

Thank heavens he’s sat back down and isn’t leaving.

Grans coming over to me now and turns off the dryer, lifts the visor and has me lean forward so she can check I’m properly dry, she squeezes the rollers onto my head as she checks then removes the ear pads.

“I see you have a visitor then, we won’t be much longer now” gran informs me.

I nervously walk over to him

“Hello Dean, thanks for coming to pick me up gran won’t be much longer”

This isn’t how I wanted him to see me wearing a faded gown with small rollers and a hairnet.

“Hi Helen this is a bit of a surprise I wasn’t expecting you to be having your hair cut today”

“We can talk when grans finished and I’ll explain every thing”

He gives me a small smile and nods his head, staring at the rollers as if he’s never seen any thing like this before.

 

It’s a bit of a relief to be back in grans chair and I never thought I’d ever think that, I just want it all finished off now so I can explain to him why I’ve had this unflattering hairstyle carried out on me.

I want to be out quick now but gran still has her own time table to work to. She removes my net.

“Just a few minutes now to let the curls cool down then we’ll have those rollers out”

She’s still a few things left to do and suddenly pushes my head forward this must be giving Dean a full view of my new hair line, then I’m quickly shaved with a straight razor around the back then my heads moved over to the side and around my ears the skin is completely exposed as any tiny bristles are completely removed, my head comes back up and I’m trying to see Deans reaction to me being rendered completely bald were my hairlines been raised, I can’t see him as grans in the way.

My rollers are now all removed and I’ve a head or rather what part she’s left me of it is covered in small barrels of curl as if the rollers were still in, I remember mums looked like this although I think mine are noticeably smaller.

Grans working them now like she did mums teasing them out slightly and locking one into the next one until with a satisfied grin she puts down her long tail comb.

“Better, much much better” she say’s to her self.

I can’t see either my hair or Dean’s reaction as she’s in front of me.

“Close your eye’s tight dear” she instructs

This must be the lacquer like she used on mum, I think of mum’s unnatural hard shell of hair locked in place now mine is to be the same.

The first lacquer hits me and the smell is very strong, it was strong when I watched mum being coated but now its my turn the smells overpowering, I can feel it dripping onto my scalp as she must be really laying it on heavily, then it stops.

“Don’t open them yet” she commands.

I sit very still not daring to open my eyes for what seems a long time then it starts all over again. I can feel the liquid landing on my bald neckline. Then she stops.

I open my eyes and take in the finished hairstyle for the first time; I’m not beautiful any more.

I have a very old-fashioned hairstyle that’s just like the lady who came in earlier the bare skin at the side is stark and white and my forehead is completely on show as all the hair has been taken back off it, grans holding a mirror for me to see the back, my hair forms a perfect line around the back of my head and my neck looks extremely long such is the height I’ve been shaven to.

“As you can see I’ve done as you asked and taken it up nice and tight, one of the best I’ve done in along time” gran says pleased with her self

“Err yes thank you gran” is all I can manage in my shocked condition.

The chair lowers and gran unties the gown and pulls it from around me, the sight of what I’ve become hits home harder as my prim clothes are revealed.

I feel my suspenders move as I rise and touch the silk smooth skin of my neck still sticky with drying lacquer splashes.

This is it then the moment of truth.

“Well Dean what do you think”

 

Dean stands and faces me his face has a look of bewilderment; he still doesn’t understand what’s going on here.

“Helen your hair it’s all gone” is his first comment, then he realises what he’s said

“I mean it’s very neat and tidy” he hesitates for a moment

“Helen this is all such a surprise”

 

I think it’s a great improvement and it was about time she grew up, now she’s a proper young lady”

“Yes thanks gran its just what I wanted” I reply

“Now I’ll be out the back for a while I’ll leave you two to talk and you can also clear that hair up, give me a shout before you go theirs some thing I want to do” gran leaves and were left alone in the shop.

 

Dean and I sit on the waiting chairs

“Now Dean before you say any more let me explain why I wanted my hair styled so severely, it must be a big shock to you as I know it is to me and I think living with what’s just been done to me is going to take some getting used to”

He reaches out in one hand he’s holding the long section of hair he picked up and with the other hand is gently touching the clean bald skin of my neck, his touch feels electric on my newly exposed nape.

“I’m ashamed of how I’ve behaved since we split and have come to realise how much damage I’ve done to those I love, and want to start again. I cannot do this looking and feeling as I did my attractiveness, trendy clothes and long hair would always get me the sort of attention that coursed all the hurt I’ve made. So I’ve decided to put that behind me you’re comments last night made an impact. I changed my style of dress a short while ago and now only want to dress in a classic modest fashion and now I think it right for my hair to reflect those values to, I could have gone for a softer less harsh style but wanted to show my self that things had changed and leave my self no options for turning back so I asked gran to be very hard on me, its been really upsetting at times seeing a life’s worth of beautiful long hair cut off and my remaining hair permanently curled in a frankly unflattering style that’s going to set me apart from all of my friends who probably won’t want to be seen with me now I look like a prim older woman, and I wouldn’t blame you dean if you didn’t want any thing to do with me after all that’s happened. But in a way I want my new very short hair to demonstrate that for me this life change is as permanent as my curls are now.”

 

Dean doesn’t answer he just leans over a gently kisses me, this is the best answer I could have had and all of the tensions and worries flood from me.

 

“Well then let’s have a proper look at you then” says Dean and stands me up and turns me round then kisses me on my shaven neck

“Do you know how cute your ears are now that you’ve been shaved?” he whispers then goes and picks up all the long sections of my fallen hair and puts them in a plastic bag.

 

Now I want to take a proper look at what’s been done to me and stand in front of the long mirror by the chairs. The reflection I get is unrecognisable from how I looked before Christmas, the whole package blouse, knee length skirt, shoes, stockings, no make up and now a traditional hard set, tight skinned sides, helmet hair style totally alter me, before I was proud of my looks vain even but now gran has taken my finest feature away and thrown it on the floor I feel humbled and even a little ugly could Dean still wont me now?

 

Before any of this could be answered Gran returns

“So how are you getting used to your new style then”

“It certainly feels different” is my answerer

“And you young man what do you think then”

“She looks divine, Could I ask a favour of you before me leave”

“And what could that be” replies gran

“Well with Helen now so smart and formal I’ll look such a scruff, could you quickly cut my hair for me now”

 

This suggestion pleases gran and surprises me; Dean was always so particular about who cut his hair and it always been so trendy. She’s soon got him in the chair I go and sit and watch,

Walking feels different with out my hair moving with me and my head feels so light now but also very cold around the shaven parts touching the curls is a shock their not soft and bouncy but hard and brittle as if they might snap off if I moved one too far.

 

While my thoughts have been occupied I look up and she’s nearly finished Dean.

His hair is as surprising as mine he now has a very high, very short back and sides haircut which is as old fashioned as my own style, oh my he’s done this to match my style what a lovely gesture.

 

Deans finished now and up out of the chair.

“Now while your young man sweeps up Helen you’ll need one of these” gran hands me a hairnet in a packet make sure you wear that in bed or you’re set won’t last long now don’t get your hair wet for a week at which point I’ll have you here to reset you, and you’ll need this as it’s a little windy out”

Gran folds a navy square silk scarf and covers my hair then ties it under my chin.

Dean rejoins us.

Their you look the perfect couple with your new hair styles.

Dean and I can only blush.

 

Leaving the salon was a shock the cold air hit me all round my head even with the scarf on I’m glad Deans car isn’t far away as I feel very conspicuous.

 

We go back to mums as I want her opinion on my new hair, I’ve a feeling she’ll be quite shocked. She’s not in when we get their and dad wont be back from golf for a while yet.

I’m glad to be in there are some hairs inside my blouse from my clipping itching badly.

 

“I’m just nipping upstairs make your self comfortable”

I slip off my blouse and there are tiny hairs around the collar I try flicking them off but they wont go it’ll need washing, I’ll need to change.

I haven’t another blouse but theirs a dress in the wardrobe so I take my skirt off ready to put it on, that’s when I catch sight of my self in the mirror, do I really want to prematurely old, the big knickers the deep suspender belt and full long line bra don’t belong to some one in their early twenties nor should a tight grannies perm but I have all these things, its probably the shock still from my restyle but all my emotions boil over again and I break down sobbing.

 

“Helen are you ok in their” comes Deans voice through the door he must have heard me crying

“Can I come in” the door opens slowly and he comes in and finds me slumped over my bed in just my large underwear crying. He lifts me up to him and holds me tight for a few minutes with out saying any thing. I calm down in his arms.

“Sorry I just became overcome with today”

“That’s ok it’s been a traumatic experience for you, but I think you’ll find in time worth it”

“You’re not supposed to see me like this, I’ve no clothes on”

“You’ve got lots of clothes on” he jokes this makes me giggle

“Could you love me as I am now or do you want me to change back?”

“Seeing you for the first time when you came out from the hairdryer shocked me but as I’m getting more used to short curly you I’m liking it more and more, and defiantly don’t stop wearing those black stockings please”

“I wont” a feeling of relief comes over me as the biggest worry is put to bed.

I better put some clothes back on as mum will be back soon.

 

We’re in the lounge when mum comes in. She enters then stops when she see’s me.

“What has she done to you” mum says in a shocked voice

“Only what I asked her to” is my reply and stand and show mum the full effect.

“It so short, you’ve not much left now from all that lovely long hair is this really what you wanted, and the back she shaved me a lot I thought but your is even higher than mine”

“It going to take a lot of getting used to but yes this is what I needed”

“In that case then I’m pleased for you” and mum gives me a hug.

 

I’m making tea when dad comes in I have my back to him as I finish what I’m doing.

“Denise have you had your haircut again it looks absolutely brilliant”

When I turn dads so surprised he cannot talk for a moment.

“Helen your hair its so different, I never expected you to have your hair done to”

“Do you like it Dad”

“My dear you look so beautiful”

Mum comes in now

“Let me look at you both together with your lovely tight perms what a picture”

Dads really enthusiastic about my new look.

We all spend a pleasant evening together and make plans for the following night which will be New Years Eve.

“It would be nice to have a few friends and family round maybe your parents would like to come, Dean” dad suggests.

“I’m sure they would love to it will be nice to show every one the new Helen to” Dean Answers.

I don’t know if I’m ready yet to be put on show, but perhaps it will be best to just get it over with and just let every one know I’m no longer the beautiful young woman I was but am now a rather plain prim lady with very old fashioned hair some people are in for a surprise.

 

Mum and dad go up and leave me and dean down stairs to say good night, Dean needs to be up early tomorrow as he has to work so cant stop to long, this suits me as I’ve had a emotional day and feel drained now.

“Helen, I wouldn’t have chosen your haircut for you but now I can see the change it’s bought to you emotionally as well as physically I’m pleased you’ve had all your hair cut off, now I want you as my lady.”

This is just what I need to hear and kiss him in response. As we kiss his hand rides up my thigh and reaches my stocking top and suspenders, and I love my lady like this he murmurs.

 

Deans left now we couldn’t go any further with mum and dad upstairs still awake.

I’m wearing my long nightdress now sat in front of my dressing table mirror, mum comes in dressed identically except her hair is wrapped in a net, this reminds me of the net gran gave me, I’ll have to be netted every night now just like mum.

“Let me help you with that” says mum as she takes the net from me, then places it over my curls and tightens it at the back, it feels so strange to be wearing a old ladies hairnet again and my reflection brings a single tear to my eyes.

“Oh my little girl what have you done to your self” says mum as she strokes my shaven neck.

I get into bed and the day replays in my mind every cut the feel of the perm rods the heat of the dryer and the scratch of the razor as I was shaven bald, then Deans words and it all seems worth it and I sleep easily in the knowledge the new year really has made a new me.