Cassandra’s Shear Insistence, Part 2 – Liberating the Odd Couple

Prologue

I was still glowing from one of my greatest triumphs a few days earlier, when I was able to liberate a pretty, but misguided, young woman called Sophie from her ridiculously long hair. Transformed by her delightful flattop haircut, I could still remember her pristine white neck gleaming in the sunlight as she left my shop. She may have only wanted a trim, but I had freed her from the confines of societal norms. I hoped she was enjoying her holiday in the sun, refashioned into someone attractive, powerful, and unapologetic.

It had been a while since someone like Sophie had entered my elite establishment, Shear Insistence. Her presence had revitalised my yearning to liberate all women from their cumbersome long locks. Long hair is a curse, clinging to the mundane conventions of femininity, while obscuring the real woman beneath.

My barbershop attracts men and boys from the neighbourhood, as much for my striking appearance as my haircutting skills. My severe flattop haircut paired with provocative clothing proves to them all that a woman is far more alluring without long hair hiding her beauty. So, inside Shear Insistence, I serve not only as a strict barber for men and boys, but as an agent of change for women.

Despite encouraging the menfolk, fewer of their long-haired wives, girlfriends, and daughters, were finding their way to my door. However, a walk around town reminded me that there were still many long-haired women requiring my attention to further the battle against the absurdity of long hair. Consequently, I was greatly relieved when an unfamiliar young couple drifted through the door of Shear Insistence, unwittingly putting themselves on the frontline of my war.

Arrival

‘Hi there,’ the man breezily called out. ‘Any chance of a quick trim? We just drove into town, and we have already checked into our hotel, and we will be meeting our friends this evening.’

I cringed on hearing the dreaded word “trim” – anathema to good barbers everywhere – but I did my best to hide my feelings. Furthermore, I did not need their life history as a pre-requisite to cut his hair. ‘Of course, sir. Please take a seat,’ I invited, gesturing with a hand towards my chair.

As he approached, I decided he was acceptably good-looking, if you like that sort of thing, but had a pretentious air about him. Tall, slim, and around thirty years old. He wore a casual beige linen suit over a white shirt, buttoned up at the neck but without a tie. He had floppy blonde hair that straddled his collar, which was noticeably thinning on top, but which he was doing his best to hide.

‘Thanks, he said casually. ‘Will it be okay for my wife to wait here while you’re trimming it?’

‘Of course,’ I said agreeably, although I did feel she brought down the tone of my establishment. Of a similar age and build to her husband, she wore a yellow summer dress that was extremely short. With puffed sleeves and a plunging neckline, her outfit seemed more suited to someone much younger.

However, what really let the woman down was her ridiculously long chestnut-coloured hair. She was wearing it loose, and it was long enough to sit on. Indeed, as she was attempting to sit down, she made quite a pantomime of pulling it out from under her before her bottom settled on the waiting bench. I felt a tremor of excitement, imagining her “waiting” for my attention, and contemplating how best to tempt her to follow her husband into my chair. The possibilities were endless, I mused, perhaps for a little too long.

‘Excuse me! Customer to barber!’ yelled the pretentious oaf. He studied me in the mirror as if waiting for an answer to a question.

I stared back at him blankly, realising that my mind had drifted as I contemplated pleasurable fantasies concerning the fate of his wife’s ridiculous hair. ‘Sorry, sir?’

‘For the thousandth time, I would like just the ends trimmed a little to maintain the style,’ he demanded. What style, I wondered? ‘I feel it adds to my raffish charm,’ he chuckled. What charm, raffish or otherwise, I contemplated. ‘Besides, Marie likes my hair long don’t you, darling?’

Marie looked up from her unsuccessful search for suitable reading matter amongst the dog-eared pile of car and angling magazines. ‘Yes, Keith,’ she sniffed, looking far less convinced about her husband’s overly long and thinning hair, than the un-raffish man himself.

I wondered if her doubts gave me an opening to have a little fun.

Consultation

‘I can do that, sir,’ I agreed, showing no enthusiasm for trimming his “ends”. ‘But, with your hair not as thick as it once was, I wonder if you have considered something a little different,’ I suggested diplomatically. ‘Shorter, perhaps?’

While watching his reaction, I observed Marie out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting back on the bench, looking thoughtful, having dismissed her feigned interest in cars and fish. Rather interestingly, on hearing my words, she gave me an almost imperceptible nod, followed by a conspirational wink.

‘Are you suggesting my hair is thinning?’ he barked aggressively. I nodded. He took a deep breath, and his angry expression softened. ‘Well, perhaps I am a little, but I do my best to hide it.’ I shook my head slowly, rebutting his assertion that his comb-over was a success. ‘Does it really show?’ he whined sheepishly.

‘Only from some angles, sir,’ I murmured, trying to soften the blow to his pride.

‘Does it really show, Marie?’ he asked, finding his wife’s reflection in the mirror. She nodded vigorously, and then hopped over to stand by the chair.

What followed was a discussion I regularly had with men of a certain age who were losing their hair. Normally I trod carefully, often over several visits, not wishing to hurt their pride unnecessarily or lose them as a customer. I would batter them with my loaded suggestions but always with one ultimate objective in mind. I was not always immediately successful but, with Keith, I had a secret weapon on hand … his wife!

Marie nodded eagerly at all my observations and suggestions. It was clear she had wanted her husband to do something about his thinning hair for some time. She used her undoubted charms on her husband to reinforce my recommendation. When he hesitated, she reworded the proposal and tried again.

Finally, Keith gave a long sigh, resigned to his fate. ‘Fine, do what you think is best,’ he said glumly, looking at each of us in turn, indicating that we could decide upon his style together.

Marie and I stepped away from the chair and had a whispered discussion concerning the relative merits of different options for her husband’s hair. Marie solemnly nodded in all the right places at each of my proposals. But she grew animated and excited by only one.

‘What have you two cooked up between you then?’ he asked nervously, as his wife walked back to the chair.

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips while ruffling his hair. ‘Trust me, Keith,’ she giggled, unable to keep the excitement from her voice, while resting a hand on his thigh.

‘Er …’ he murmured, blushing, clearly embarrassed by his wife’s intimacy in front of me.

Renewal

Primed by Keith’s wife, I flicked open a cape and enveloped him with it. I took my powerful Oster hairclippers from their hook by the mirror and removed the guard, revealing the shining metallic blade. I positioned myself to one side of him.

‘Are you happy for me to follow Marie’s wishes, sir?’ I breathed, adding to his emotional state. He nodded, and his wife squealed with delight, standing on the side of him. ‘Excellent, then you must trust me also, sir.’

I left a pause whereby either of them could have said or done something to halt proceedings. There was no such indication. So, without further ado, I grabbed a handful of Keith’s hair at the back of his head with my left hand to keep him in place. Then, with my right, I drove the blade of the hairclippers through the thin hair at his forehead and continued over the top of his head. As I adjusted the clippers for their next pass, a white furrow was clearly visible.

‘At last,’ squealed Marie, clapping her hands with glee. In our whispered conversation she had revealed that she had wanted to broach the subject of her husband’s thinning hair for some time. But she had not done so, out of fear of hurting his feelings.

Keith’s jaw dropped as he looked in the mirror to see his rapidly changing appearance. He closed and opened his mouth several times, rather like a goldfish, but he never said a word.

Following each determined pass of the clippers, another quickly followed. In less than a minute I had sheared all his hair down to fine bristles. Following my agreement with his wife, I wasted no time in lathering his head, massaging the white foam until I had coated his whole head. Then I began the rewarding task of scraping away the foam with my razor and leaving behind smooth white skin.

Once I had completed my task, I wiped Keith’s head clean and massaged a little oil into his scalp. Then I buffed his head to a gleaming shine, before swishing away the cape.

There was silence and the couple both appeared frozen in time. Then Marie approached the chair and tentatively examined her husband’s scalp with her fingers, a look of awe on her face.

‘Why, Marie?’ Keith grumbled. ‘Whatever the reason, I can’t say I’m very happy that you took this upon yourself with consulting me.’

By way of answer, she leant over and brushed her lips, perhaps her tongue, against his bare scalp. And then she adjusted her position, kissing him passionately on his lips. Her other hand was provocatively resting, then kneading, his thigh. It seemed actions said more than words.

Marie came up for air. ‘Oh, that’s why, is it?’ Keith uttered breathlessly with a cheesy grin. Marie responded with a slow smile, her hand still kneading his thigh. ‘Right … er, fine … well, fair enough … and, um,’ he blustered, ‘perhaps we should discuss it a little more when we’re alone, back to the hotel.’

Marie beamed, and nodded eagerly, moving away from the chair, giving give him space to rise.

Payback

When Keith got to his feet, he turned towards me, taking out his wallet. I led him over to my reception desk. ‘It is going to take me a while to accept being completely bald, but I can see you have done a professional job. And what is more, I have a good head shape, don’t I?’ he asked anxiously. I nodded. ‘Not exactly raffish now, I suppose, but, er …’

‘Commanding, sir?’ I suggested with a smile, pandering to his pride. ‘Confident? Self-assured?’

‘Thanks, I’ll take all of those,’ he chuckled, rewarding me with a sizable tip.

‘Well, you look great, Keith! Clean and fresh,’ I said, smiling, laying it on even thicker, and using his name for the first time.

I could see in his eyes a blend of acceptance and residual frustration. He ran a hand over his newly exposed scalp, mumbling about how he would have preferred to make the decision himself. I had formulated an idea to distract him from his doubts.

‘Have you ever spoken to Marie about her hair?’ I whispered, and he looked quizzically back at me, shaking his head. ‘As we get a little older, shorter hair can look much more attractive in both men and women. Demonstrably so, in your case,’ I said, resulting in him glowing with the force of my flattery.

‘Thanks, Cassandra,’ he simpered, confidently running a hand over his scalp.

‘And I’m sure you would agree, Keith, that an older woman like me looks best with short hair,’ I suggested, preening my flattop haircut, and provocatively running a fingertip over the shaved sides.

Keith looked concerned as he tried to imagine his wife with hair as short as mine. He visibly shivered, as if to shake away the undesirable notion of his wife losing her hair.

‘Well, yes, your hair, er, suits you, Cassandra,’ he admitted, his voice quavering, falling into my trap. ‘But Marie …?’

It was time to embark on my necessary, but enjoyable, campaign of persuasion and coaxing. I had all the answers to convince yet another long-haired woman of the wisdom of surrendering her locks to me. Priming Keith to do the challenging work, would add drama to the occasion.

‘It wouldn’t need to be as short as mine to look good on her, Keith,’ I sighed. ‘Marie has the perfect features to carry off any short style well.’

‘She does?’ he questioned, looking across at Marie, examining the tools of my trade with curiosity and seemingly oblivious of our whispered conversation.

‘Of course she does!’ I chastised, coaching him to achieve my goals. ‘Look!’ I commanded, gesturing towards her.

The contrast was striking between Keith’s baldness gleaming under the ceiling lights, and the thick mane Marie sported, cascading down her back like a curtain.

‘Given you look so good, Keith, and it was Marie that convinced me to shave you, perhaps you should return the favour. Persuade Marie to go for something adventurous too,’ I suggested.

Keith arched an eyebrow, bemused. ‘Marie would not even consider it. She loves her long hair.’

‘Ah, Keith, but that is because she has not seen how incredible she could look with short hair! You know, it is practical. No more tangling herself in car doors, no more frizz on humid days. And so much more time on her hands. Just imagine how vibrant and free she would feel!’ I leaned in, lowering my voice as if we were sharing a juicy secret.

‘I suppose it would be a sort of poetic justice for foisting this on me,’ he complained, slapping his bare head.

Yes! I congratulated myself after Keith had admitted to seeking revenge, even if he was not explicitly voicing it.

‘Exactly,’ I confirmed.

‘Perhaps …’ Keith mused sceptically, although intrigue was glimmering in his eyes. ‘But what if she hates it?’

‘That’s where I come in,’ I beamed, gesturing to my trusted tools that Marie was examining. ‘I can make short hair work for her, and besides, short hair is so stylish! Just look at me!’ I reminded him. ‘It is a bold and mature decision for a woman, Keith, and you are in the best position to help your wife. As a couple, think of how striking you would look at the party this evening – Keith and Marie embodying different, yet complementary, styles!’

With that phrase, I struck a chord. Keith’s face softened. I could see the wheels spinning in his head. ‘You think she would really look better, Cassandra?’

‘Absolutely! And think about it, Keith, as you embrace this bald look, it is the perfect time for her to make a statement too,’ I grinned.

Keith sat in silence, clearly wrestling with the notion. After a moment, he finally relented. ‘Okay, Cassandra, you have convinced me of the merits of short hair, but you have to help me persuade Marie!’

‘Just tell her how beautiful you think she would look,’ I encouraged, praying our scheme would take root.

Persuasion

‘What are you two whispering about?’ Marie suddenly asked, looking quizzically in our direction, catching us both off guard.

‘Well, we wondered,’ he began, and I rewarded him with an admonishing glare. ‘That is, I wondered if you might, er … I mean now that you have kindly sorted my hair out for me,’ he blustered hesitantly, ‘whether you had considered a change … I mean to your hair …’

‘Why would I ever do that, Keith? You know how long it has taken to grow it to this length!’ she scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly.

Keith quickly chimed in, ‘But imagine how much easier life could be, Marie! And I am bald! We would look so good together, you know, like a team!’

Marie’s brow furrowed as she considered. As she did so, Keith reeled out my arguments against long hair, citing practicality, attractiveness, and time saving, amongst others.

It was a confrontation that ebbed and flowed. As Marie raised an objection, Keith would dive in with another advantage of short hair.

When they both seemed exhausted, Marie took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. ‘Alright, but not as short as yours,’ she stated, jabbing a finger at my flattop.

‘Of course not, Marie,’ I responded sweetly with a broad smile.

‘But if I look ridiculous, you are both in big trouble!’ she exclaimed, settling down in my chair.

Reinvention

As Marie sat in my chair, she nervously fidgeted under the large white cape I had placed over her. Her long hair cascaded down the back of the chair like a waterfall, the ends almost touching the floor. I could see a heady mixture of excitement and trepidation on her face, the latter edging ahead most of the time.

Keith had wandered over to the waiting area but had not sat down. He forced a grin, but it appeared more like a grimace that held no warmth.

I smiled reassuringly at Marie’s reflection in the mirror, brandishing my scissors, enthused by what was to come. For the couple, it was a time of scary transformation and exciting renewal. For me, it would be another victory in my ongoing battle to eliminate long hair.

Without a word of warning, I drove my scissors into the mass of hair covering Marie’s neck. The sharp blades sent chunks of her heavy, overgrown mane to the floor. Each gleeful snip echoed our earlier conversations about transformation, redefinition, and the liberation from societal norms attached to femininity. Marie’s long locks accumulated on the floor like fallen leaves during an autumn breeze.

Once the scissors had worked their way all around Marie’s head, she could see the devastation I was causing. ‘No! You have cut too much!’ Her plaintive cry echoed against the shop’s tiled walls as she observed the roughly cut bob that barely covered her ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Keith grimacing with the shock of her changed appearance.

‘Trust me, Marie,’ I countered calmly. ‘And, what’s more, this is only the beginning,’ I added excitedly.

I neatly sectioned off the hair on her crown, then combed down all the hair that remained loose. I grasped my hair clippers with gleeful excitement.

‘Hairclippers?’ Cassandra’s disbelief rolled from her lips when she saw me brandishing the wonderful tool I employed. I could sense her panic rising as she squirmed beneath the cape. ‘You’re not going to shave me completely bald like Keith, are you?’ she asked timidly.

‘No, silly,’ I chuckled. ‘Not completely bald,’ I added, trying unsuccessfully to put her mind at rest. ‘I just need to remove a little weight to ensure the style sits right.’

‘Oh,’ Marie replied nervously, unconvinced. ‘It’s almost like you think all women should have short hair,’ she pondered aloud, all too perceptively.

Not answering her, her assertion resulted in my laughter resonating with dark satisfaction. With practiced efficiency, I used my hairclippers to peel Marie’s hair from around her ears, along her neck, and up the back and sides of her head. The satisfying sight of smooth white skin shone through beautifully.

I let down the hair pinned to Marie’s crown. For a moment, her unkempt short bob reappeared and hid the shaved area beneath it. But not for long. Using my comb as a guide, I neatly snipped off all the hair around her head an inch above the tops of her ears. I continued the line around the back of her head, leaving pristine white skin below. I joined by sides across her forehead, giving Marie an extremely short fringe.

Once I had made a few final adjustments, Marie’s reflection met her gaze. I had transformed her hair into a severe bowlcut. A smooth cap of hair covering the crown with the back and sides shaved to the skin.

‘It’s so short!’ she whined, horror painting her features. Her distress only increased when I held up a mirror for her to see the devastation at the back of her head.

‘Nonsense, Cassandra. It was ridiculously long before, but now it is acceptable,’ I beamed, the thrill coursing through me. ‘And, as we agreed, I have not cut your hair as short as mine, although that’s something I will happily address in due course.’

Continuing to examine her hair from every angle, lightly fingering her bare skin as it disappeared under the smooth cap of her remaining hair, he features began to soften. Experience told me the shock was wearing off and she was gradually surrendering to the aura of Shear Insistence.

Marie gave a tentative chuckle as she admired her reflection. ‘I … I actually love it!’ she beamed, patting the short cap of glossy hair on her crown, then running her palm along her denuded nape.

In stark juxtaposition, I caught a glimpse of Keith. His face, once full of hope, now fell into a sombre expression. He was already mourning the loss of his wife’s absurdly long hair, as all men had tended to do in the past. And as all men would need to do in the future, as my necessary campaign gathered strength.

As Keith and Marie stood together, before the mirror, I felt the weight of my role as an agent of change. ‘You look fantastic, Marie! Trust me, you will soon become used to it. And you are a much cooler couple than when you entered!’ I added, attempting to salvage Keith’s mood.

But as Marie glowed at her transformation, I caught glimpses of Keith’s eyes sliding away from her glossy bowlcut. I imagined him contemplating lost memories of flowing long hair that he could never recapture. ‘I don’t know if I made the right call,’ he sadly murmured.

‘Change is never easy, Keith, but it opens new doors,’ I said, smiling gently. ‘Just wait and see. Marie will embrace this wonderful transformation for both of you.’

Epilogue

Once again, I had successfully used an impressionable man to help me in my quest. With my assistance, Keith had persuaded his long-haired wife to sit in my barber’s chair. I had enthusiastically sheared off her hair and presented him with a modern and attractive woman of whom he can feel proud.

As the striking couple left my shop – the man with his gleaming bald head and the woman with her pristine white neck gleaming in the sunlight – I could not help but feel triumphant. I had liberated another misguided woman with long hair from the confines of societal norms, reshaping her into someone attractive, powerful, and unapologetic.

My quest continues, and in a world disturbingly full of women with long hair, I pledge my skill and enthusiasm to make Shear Insistence a haven for their freedom.

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