BarberBrad
Liz had always been a bit of a chameleon—hair dyed purple one month, chopped into a pixie cut the next. Her latest style, a sharp undercut hidden beneath a cascade of chestnut waves, had been her favorite yet. But for weeks now, a wild idea had been simmering in her mind: shaving her head completely. She’d caught herself staring at bald models on Instagram, imagining how the cool air would feel on her scalp, how fierce she’d look with nothing to hide behind. The thought sent a shiver of excitement through her, but she wasn’t ready to own it. Not out loud. Her boyfriend Brad might think she’d gone off the deep end, and her coworkers at the quirky vintage shop she managed would never let her live it down. So, Liz decided to orchestrate a little “accident.”
It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, the kind where the world felt slow and soft. Liz sprawled across the couch, her legs draped over Brad’s lap as he scrolled through memes on his phone. She’d been dropping hints all week about her undercut growing out—subtle nudges to get him thinking about the clippers. Now was her moment. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and flashed him a coy smile. “Hey, babe, my undercut’s looking rough. Could you trim it for me? You’ve got that steady hand I can’t pull off myself.”
Brad chuckled, setting his phone down. “Yeah, I’m basically a pro barber now, right? Let’s get you sorted.” He hopped up, grabbing the clippers and a towel from the bathroom while Liz settled onto a stool in their tiny kitchen. She swept her long hair into a loose bun, exposing the fuzzy patch of regrowth at the nape of her neck. Brad flicked the clippers on, their familiar buzz cutting through the quiet. “Same length as last time?” he asked, adjusting the guard.
“Yep, just clean it up,” Liz said, her voice steady but her pulse racing. She’d rehearsed this in her head a dozen times. Brad started the first pass, the clippers gliding smoothly along her neck, sending little prickles of anticipation up her spine. As he lined up for the second swipe, she seized her chance. “Cough, cough!” She hacked loudly, jerking her head forward just as the clippers swept upward. The blade caught more than it should, shearing a wide swath of hair well above the undercut line. A thick clump tumbled to the tile floor.
“Whoa, shit!” Brad yanked the clippers back, staring at the damage. “You okay? That went way too high—my bad.”
Liz clutched her chest, playing the part of a startled girlfriend. “Oh no, sorry! That cough came out of nowhere. How bad is it?” She reached back, fingers brushing the jagged edge where her hair now stopped mid-scalp. Her heart was doing cartwheels, but she kept her face scrunched in mock worry.
Brad held up a hand mirror, wincing. “Uh, it’s pretty messed up. The line’s all uneven now. I could try to blend it, but it’s gonna look weird unless we go shorter everywhere.”
Liz turned her head, inspecting the chaos in the reflection. “Oh man, you’re right. It’s totally off. I think… we might have to shave it all.” She sighed dramatically, locking eyes with him. “What do you think?”
Brad’s brows shot up. “Like, everything? Bald? You serious?” He ran a hand through his own scruffy hair, clearly thrown.
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging as if it pained her to admit it. “It’s the only way to fix it now. Hair grows back, right? No big deal.” Inside, she was screaming with glee, but she nudged him playfully to sell it. “Come on, you’re the one with the clippers. Finish the job.”
Brad hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. Let’s make it happen.” He swapped the guard for the shortest setting and got to work, buzzing away the rest of her hair in steady, deliberate strokes. Liz watched in the mirror as her waves fell in soft piles around her feet, revealing the pale curve of her scalp. With every pass, she felt lighter—freer—like she was shedding more than just hair. When the last strand dropped, Brad switched off the clippers and stepped back, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Holy hell, Liz. You look like a total badass. I mean, I liked your hair before, but this? This is next-level.”
Liz ran her hands over her smooth head, a laugh bubbling up as she caught her reflection. “You think so? I kinda love it too.” She hopped off the stool, striking a goofy pose in her oversized hoodie. “New me, baby. What’s the verdict?”
Brad pulled her into a hug, his fingers brushing her freshly shaved scalp. “Verdict is you’re insane—in the best way. I should’ve known you’d turn a trim into a full-on makeover.” He paused, squinting at her. “Wait, that cough—was that on purpose?”
Liz froze for a split second, then smirked. “What? Me, scheme something like this? Never.” She winked, dodging the question, and darted off to the bathroom to admire her new look up close. The truth was hers to keep—for now. Maybe she’d tell him later, over beers and a good laugh. Or maybe she’d let him wonder.
That night, Liz texted a selfie to her best friend Mara, who immediately called her. “Liz, what the hell?! You shaved your head? Spill everything!” Liz just laughed, spinning a vague tale about a clipper mishap, leaving out the part where she’d masterminded it all. Mara was skeptical but too excited to care, demanding they hit the town to show off Liz’s bold new vibe. By Monday, the vintage shop crew was buzzing—some shocked, some obsessed—and Liz reveled in every gasp and compliment. She’d pulled it off, her secret safe, her head gloriously bare. And deep down, she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she turned a quiet craving into a loud, unforgettable reality.
