Makeover to Bank Manager

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I was very happy to learn that my classmate Ronita has been recently promoted to post of manager and has been posted in bank located in my locality. We were not very close in school, but we were in same class. Our background actually did created a difference between us, me being the boy of village barber, she being the daughter of doctor of village, but we were still friends. I last saw her 8 years back when we left the school. I remembered her, as slim, short girl with lovely boy cut then. The only girl to sport short hair at my school. Her boy cut was a special reason for our friendship though, because she got her haircut from my dad only. Whenever she needed haircut, she would come to our home or dad would be called, but she never entered the shop after turning 14. After school we parted away, I went to become an engineer, she remained in the village.

I went to meet her at the bank one week after she joined, just to give her enough time to adjust. She has developed into a beautiful lady of 27 now, white complexion and well developed features wearing a beautiful blue salwar-kameez. She has grown her hair all the way towards her butt. But seeing her condition there I pitied her. She has no authority there, nobody respect her as the in-charge. She was running from one place to another, as if she is servant there. I didn’t meet her so that I don’t humiliate her. I left the place but left a message for her inviting him to my home. I understood her problem quickly, her problem is her submissive personality and modest behavior.

The same day she visited my home at evening wearing the same salwar. We chatted regarding our life after school a little about our position. I then changed the topic towards hair, ‘You don’t visit my dad anymore?’

She laughed, “Why should I visit? You are not there anymore to see me getting haircut”

I laughed, she smiled, “Why you are laughing? You were always there during my haircut, also when I was shaved in class 11.”

I replied, “Yeah I remember that, you actually grew your hair a little then till shoulders I think.”

She smiled, “Yeah, it grew then got it shaved. This length you see I am growing it right from college.”

I said, “Maybe you should have a makeover, cut your hair short.”

She became little furious and possessive, she touched her hair which was in pony then as if guarding it and said, “I love my hair.”

I replied, “It’s too long.”

She kept on saying, “I love it long.”

I pulled her from chair and made her sit on a stool, then brought comb. She was now getting scared.

I told, “Let me comb it. I am barber’s son, I know about hair even though I don’t practice. You should cut at least to your midback.”

She tried to get up from chair but I held her there and said, “At least get rid of split ends, let me trim it.”

She agreed sensing, she would not escape without getting her hair in-between my scissor.

So I arranged a chair at the middle of living room, placing it on newspaper. I also arranged scissors, combs and other things. She silently came when called and took seat in that chair, spreading her hair behind, submitting it to me.

I then draped a towel over which made her frightened. I assured her, “I will do trim okay just one inch, don’t worry. I am just thinking of styling some hair in front so I draped it, don’t worry I will not take the length.”

She was now sitting upright, she was too frightened. I started spraying water to her whole hair from top to bottom. Then inserting my fingers I started massaging her which relaxed her little.

Then I combed her hair and took scissors. She could see the scissor but heard the sound of clinking of scissor blades. I combed again, ready to cut her hair when she said, “Umm…I really do think it is too long…you can cut it little.”

I was happy and answered, “Till shoulders?”

She yelled, “No, no, no!!! Till midback at most.”

I said, ‘Relax let me handle it.’

I combed her hair last, placed the scissors at her back 6 inches above her hair ends. The gripped the end of her hair to have strain on her hair. She closed her eyes but kept on saying, “not too short…not too…short.”

I bent her head down, so that her chin touched her chest. I was ready to cut.

Quickly I moved the scissor to her neck and before she could do anything, kaachchchch…chchch. Chch. Most of her mane was now hanging in my grip of left hand. I kept on cutting till the whole hair was in my hand.

There was a moment of silence as I dropped her hair on floor. She was too shocked. After a few moments she regained her sense. She immediately reached to her back searching for the hair, then turned around to see her hair lying on floor. She turned her face towards me, her eyes were watery, and she wanted to say something but no voice came.

Then she started crying, “My hair! You cut it why?”

I didn’t answered. She picked up her hair and started sobbing.

I gently hold her at shoulders and made her sit on the chair. She was crying too much…I didn’t said anything. I just picked up comb and started spreading her hair.

I then sprayed water on her hair and combed it.

After she become silent I said, “This is required, u needed a makeover, you are a manager now, but nobody respects you.”

I pushed her hair down and took our clipper and attached number two guard. Bending her head, I pushed it down from back, raining hair at her back. She didn’t resisted. I kept on running it at back, till it was fully cleared. The back was now spiky but black, with no whitish appearance thanks to her thick hair.

I then moved towards her side, clipping them short too. I then again too comb and spread her hair in front to a different style, changing her hair partition from center to left.

Then with a scissor I snipped excess hair. Chopped hair stick to her face due to moisture at her face.

I then picked up razor, but then thought it would be too much as she doesn’t have much of hair in nape. I again switched to clipper, removing the guard I ran it at the edges.

The haircut was complete. I brought her a mirror. She was looking very different now. I took away the towel and used the same to wipe hair from her face and shoulder.

Her whole Salwar kameez actually got covered with small hair strands. I then told her to take a shower.

She smiled at me and then said, “What do I get to wear?”

I replied, “I am a barber, don’t ask me what goes better with your super hair”

She smiled and went to shower, and I started clearing the place. All her hair collected into a mound.

Friends say, what should she wear after shower? Specify color also.

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