Haircutgirl
Dana stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her long blonde curls spilling over her shoulders, framing her face in soft, bouncing waves. She stared at her reflection, her full lips pressing into a thin line. The curls were beautiful—objectively, even she could admit that. People were always quick to compliment them. They’d reach out to touch, marvel at the texture, at the golden hue, and call her “adorable” or “cute.”
And that was the problem.
Dana didn’t want to be adorable. She didn’t want to be cute. The curls betrayed her, painting her as someone softer than she felt inside. For years, she’d fought against them, growing to resent the way people associated her curls with labels she’d never identified with. But she always kept it long because the idea of cutting it short had always terrified her. What if it just made her look worse? What if it only emphasized the softness she wanted to erase?
She reached up, grabbing a handful of the curls at the crown of her head, letting them fall back into place as she sighed. For the past week, the idea had been simmering in her mind. It had started with frustration—the way her hair refused to stay tied back during a run, the way the humidity made it impossible to control—but it had grown into something more.
A need for change.
She was staring at herself in the mirror, when her eyes drifted to the pair of clippers sitting on the shelf. They were old, left behind by an old girlfriend. She’d thought about tossing them more than once, but now, as she stared at them, her pulse quickened.
What if I just did it?
Her hand shook as she picked them up. They felt heavy in her hand, the cord snaking toward the outlet as if daring her to go through with it. She grabbed the number 2 guard from the drawer and snapped it into place. Then, with a flick of the switch, the clippers came to life, their hum vibrating through her palm. Dana brought them up to her temple, her stomach twisting in knots. She hesitated for a moment, clenching her jaw as doubt crept in. What if she looked ridiculous? What if she hated it even more than the curls?
Her eyes met her reflection, wide and uncertain. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling slightly. “Just one side. If it’s awful, I’ll stop. Just one side.”
She tightened her grip and brought the clippers to her temple, hesitated for a second, then pushed forward. A low hum filled the bathroom, and a chunk of golden hair fell silently to the floor. She froze, staring at the exposed strip of scalp. Her heart raced.
She went back for another pass, carefully angling the clippers along the side of her head, hair falling like golden snowflakes around her feet. As more of her scalp emerged, her hesitation melted away. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror— blonde curls on one side, buzzed undercut on the other—and started laughing. She told herself she could stop here but something sparked in her chest. A giddiness. She wasn’t scared anymore.
With every sweep of the clippers, she felt lighter, freer. She worked her way around her head methodically, her hands steady now as she watched her reflection transform. She tilted her head to get the angles right, focusing on making it even.
When she was done, she turned the clippers off and set them down, catching her breath. Her scalp tingled, the absence of weight both strange and thrilling. She reached up, fingers brushing the soft fuzz. It felt electric, like touching a new, braver version of herself.
Dana laughed. She couldn’t help it. The sound burst out of her, echoing off the tile walls. She looked so different. She ran her hands over her buzzed head, giddy with the strange and thrilling sensation of stubble against her palms.
But as the laughter faded, a quiet settled over her. She leaned closer to the mirror and grinned, her heart pounding. This was real. This was her. There was no going back now. She felt hot. Not in a vain, performative way, but in a real, undeniable way. Her cheeks flushed as she grinned even wider.
There would be reactions, of course. Questions, stares. People would comment, and someone would probably have an opinion. But she didn’t care. Part of her thought she might feel regret, but she didn’t.
“Goodbye,” she whispered with a smirk. And then, without a second glance, she swept it all into the trash.
The first week after buzzing her head was an emotional whirlwind for Dana. As she stepped out into the world with her new look, the responses started to pour in, and they were… mixed.
Her male friends didn’t hold back their confusion. “Why would you do that?” one of them asked, staring at her freshly shorn head like she’d committed some unthinkable crime. “It was, like… *really* pretty.”
Dana laughed and shrugged it off, realizing she didn’t care about their reactions. If anything, their discomfort only made her feel more certain that she’d done the right thing. For the first time in her life, how others perceived her wasn’t weighing her down. The soft buzz on her head was more liberating than she could’ve imagined.
Her female friends, however, were a completely different story. When they saw her for the first time, they were stunned—but in the best way.
“Holy *shit*, Dana!” her friend Lily exclaimed, rushing up to her at the café where they’d planned to meet. “You look *amazing*! I can’t believe you actually did it.”
“It suits you,” another friend chimed in, smiling with genuine pride. “I wish I had the guts to do something like that.”
The compliments kept coming. They admired her boldness, her confidence, her willingness to shed the curls and embrace something new. It felt good, hearing that kind of support, especially from an ex girlfriends she ran into.
She started to notice a shift in how she carried herself. She felt more at ease, more self-assured, like she wasn’t hiding behind anything anymore. It showed in the way she walked, the way she talked, and especially the way she flirted.
Before the buzz, Dana had always felt a little awkward when it came to flirting with women, like she was performing a version of herself that wasn’t quite real. But now? Now she felt unshakable. She could walk up to a beautiful woman at a bar, flash a crooked smile, and know she could hold her own. She wasn’t hiding, and it made all the difference.
After a few weeks, Dana noticed the faintest hint of tiny, short curls starting to reappear. Without hesitation, she grabbed her clippers, flicking them on with confidence. The sound felt like a promise: no more hiding, no more waiting. Each sweep over her scalp left her feeling sharp, unburdened, and exactly like herself. It wasn’t just about maintaining the look—it was about maintaining the freedom, the confidence, and the ease that had come with it.
But then she met Shelly.
Shelly was effortlessly cool—the kind of person who didn’t have to try. Her long, dark hair and easy laugh gave her a magnetic, laid-back energy that stopped Dana in her tracks. At a mutual friend’s party, Dana’s newfound confidence pushed her to approach Shelly, flashing a grin and leaning casually against the counter. She felt bold, unburdened—and ready to test her charm.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Dana had said smoothly, extending a hand. “I’m Dana.”
Shelly had smiled, taking her hand in an easy shake. “Shelly. Nice to meet you.”
At first, Dana played it cool, leaning into her usual charm. She cracked a few jokes, asked Shelly about herself, and threw in just the right amount of flirtation to keep things interesting. Shelly laughed, her voice soft and warm, and Dana felt a spark of excitement. She was nailing it—or so she thought.
But the longer she sat there, the more Shelly’s calm, effortless energy began to unravel Dana’s carefully constructed persona. Shelly wasn’t fazed by her jokes or her flirtation; she just smiled at her like she saw right through it. And that smile—so relaxed, so knowing—made Dana’s stomach flip. If she’d had her old hair, maybe she would’ve used it to hide her expressions. But with her buzzcut, there was nowhere to hide. Shelly could see everything—every tiny microexpression, every hint of blush—and Dana felt exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.
Shelly didn’t mention Dana’s buzzcut, but Dana caught her staring at it once or twice, her eyes lingering just a little too long before shifting back to meet Dana’s. It made Dana’s heart race, and in a desperate attempt to fill the silence, she blurted out, “I, uh… just started buzzing it, actually.” She winced inwardly as soon as the words left her mouth. *Why am I saying this?
Shelly raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden shift in the conversation. “I figured,” Shelly said simply, her tone easy and unreadable.
Dana froze, caught off guard. “Wait, what? You figured? How could you tell?”
Shelly shrugged, her expression calm but amused, like she was trying not to laugh at how flustered Dana had suddenly become. “I don’t know. Just a vibe, I guess. You’re acting like you’ve had it for years, but…” She paused, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Dana. “You’re still kind of weird about it.”
Dana blinked, her face growing warm. “Weird? What do you mean *weird*?”
Shelly smiled, leaning against the counter. “Like Telling me you buzzed it when I didn’t ask, the way you’re touching your hairline, like you’re used to brushing something away. ” she detailed lightly. “It’s cute, though.”
Dana froze, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of a response. Cute wasn’t the look she was going for, but Shelly said it so confidently that Dana’s brain short-circuited.
Dana’s mouth opened, then closed again as she scrambled for a comeback. Cute? That wasn’t the look she was going for. “Well, you didn’t ask,” Dana said finally, her voice sharpening with a playful edge. “But I did catch you staring.”
Shelly blinked, surprised for half a second before her expression shifted into a full grin. She tilted her head, laughing softly, her long, dark hair falling over one shoulder. “Sure,” Shelly said, shrugging with a grin. “You got me. What do you want? My number?”
Dana blinked, completely caught off guard, her confident facade cracking instantly. “I—uh—”
Shelly leaned in closer, resting her chin on her hand as her grin widened. “Because if that’s what you’re after, all you had to do was ask.”
Dana opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Shelly’s teasing was completely disarming, and Dana felt her cheeks burning hotter than ever.
“Okay,” Dana finally managed to say, her voice quiet and awkward. “I mean… yeah, that’d be cool.”
Shelly laughed again, shaking her head as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Alright, charmer, you win,” she said, handing it to Dana.
Dana took the phone, her hands still trembling slightly as she entered her number. When she handed it back, Shelly looked down, her grin softening into a genuine smile.
Shelly smirked, pocketing her phone. As she turned to leave, she brushed her fingers lightly across the nape of Dana’s neck, her touch fleeting but deliberate. Dana felt a shiver shoot down her spine, her skin tingling where Shelly’s hand had been. It was such a small gesture, yet it left Dana completely unmoored—like Shelly could see all of her, even the parts she wasn’t ready to show.
“See you around, Dana,” Shelly said over her shoulder, her voice smooth and full of easy confidence as she walked away.
Dana stood there, frozen, her arms dropping to her sides. She was still trying to process the brief, electrifying touch, her mind racing. Shelly had just walked off like it was nothing, leaving Dana to wonder how someone could have so much control over her in such a short amount of time.
“Okay,” Dana muttered under her breath, staring after her. “That was unfair.”
But even as she said it, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was already looking forward to seeing Shelly again.
