HairByRi
It was the kind of heat that made you question all your life choices. The sun bore down like an uninvited guest, the air thick enough to choke on. Valerie wiped the sweat from her brow as she followed her stepbrother down the street, his every step a little lighter knowing he was about to shed the mop of hair that clung to his head. Her own long hair swayed with every step, dark and heavy, sticking to her skin as the sweat pooled at the back of her neck.
She wasn’t planning to do anything about it today—just a simple trip to the barbershop for her stepbrother and that was it. But the way her stepmother glanced at her, eyeing her hair like it was some ancient relic, sent a shiver of discomfort down her spine.
“Alright, time to get that mop sorted,” her stepmother teased, nudging her brother as they stepped into the barbershop. The hum of the clippers was a familiar sound in the air, the metallic buzz cutting through the stillness like a warning bell.
Valerie sat down, trying to get comfortable in the waiting area, her eyes catching the way the hair fell in thick, dark chunks from her brother’s head, hitting the floor like dead weight. The barber was fast and efficient, working with a precision that almost felt surgical. It was oddly mesmerizing—how quickly a person could be transformed.
“You know,” her stepmother’s voice pulled her back to the present, “while we’re here, maybe it’s time to think about doing something with that hair of yours.”
Valerie blinked, momentarily unsure if she’d heard her correctly. Her hand instinctively reached for the ends of her hair, the long strands hanging well past her waist, the same hair she had always cherished for its smoothness, its length—its identity.
“Umm… sorry, I already have an appointment with Stacy this week,” Valerie said, her voice coming out lighter than she intended, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.
Her stepmother, however, wasn’t easily swayed. “Oh, Stacy, huh?” Her tone was sweet, but there was something in the way she looked at Valerie that made her feel trapped. “Well, we’re already here, and look—no waiting, no fuss. Plus, your brother’s all done. The chair is free.”
Valerie’s gaze flicked nervously toward the empty chair, the cape still draped over it, waiting like a silent invitation. She forced a laugh, shaking her head. “I’m good, really. Just… a little trim with Stacy.”
But her stepmother’s fingers were already in her hair, combing through it as though assessing the weight of it. “It’s beautiful,” she said, though her tone carried the suggestion that beautiful wasn’t enough anymore. “But don’t you ever get tired of it in this heat? Look at your brother—he’s ready for summer. You’d feel so much better if you just… lightened up.”
Valerie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t know, it’s… I like it long. And I already have plans—”
“Come on, sweetie,” her stepmother cut her off gently, giving her that smile—the one that made it clear this wasn’t up for debate. “Why not just get it done now? Save yourself the hassle later. And you don’t have to go too short. Just something more… practical.”
Practical. The word echoed in her mind, as though her hair were some unnecessary burden she had been foolishly holding onto. She glanced at the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself, her hair looking thick and luxurious, but also heavy and oppressive.
Her stepmother stood, walking toward the barber’s chair, giving the seat a little pat as she spoke over her shoulder. “Why don’t you at least sit down? We’ll just see what the barber suggests.”
Valerie hesitated, feeling a knot tighten in her chest. Her heart raced, a flutter of uncertainty filling her stomach as she slowly stood and walked toward the chair, each step feeling like a betrayal of herself. Her fingers brushed over the seat before she reluctantly sat down, trying to adjust to the large, leather chair that seemed far too big for her.
The barber, bewildered but professional, approached, his hands gathering her long hair into a thick ponytail. He looked at her stepmother for direction, but her stepmother’s eyes were on her, waiting.
“A trim, right?” Valerie’s voice came out small, hopeful. She glanced at the mirror, watching the way her hair fell over her shoulders, still beautiful, still hers.
Her stepmother’s smile was all reassurance. “Of course, just a little trim.”
But there was something in her tone, something in the way the barber was holding the clippers, that made Valerie’s skin prickle. The buzzing filled the room, louder than before, and before she could fully comprehend it, the clippers were pressed against the base of her neck, cutting through the ponytail in one swift motion.
The sound was deafening. She could almost feel the weight of the hair as it was severed from her scalp, falling to the floor like a fallen banner. She gasped, her hands flying up to the back of her head, feeling the soft stubble that was now exposed.
Her reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable. Where once there had been long, flowing hair, there was now nothing but the clean, close cut of a buzz, her scalp visible in places, the heat of the clippers still buzzing against her skin.
“There,” her stepmother said softly, her hand resting on Valerie’s shoulder. “Doesn’t that feel better? So much cooler, right?”
But Valerie didn’t feel cooler. She felt bare, exposed, as if something vital had been stripped away. The clippers hummed again, making another pass over her scalp, reducing what little hair remained to nothing more than fine stubble.
She swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears as she met her own gaze in the mirror. It wasn’t the heat that was unbearable now—it was the silence, the emptiness, the absence of something that had always been hers. And the worst part was that there was no going back.
“Yeah,” she whispered, barely audible over the buzzing, “so much lighter.”
Valerie sat frozen, staring at the reflection in the mirror. The barber was still working, making sure every last strand was even, but to her, it was already over. The cool air brushed against her scalp, a sensation she had never felt before. It was alien, raw. She could hardly recognize herself.
The reflection staring back at her was sharp, almost severe. Her face, once framed by the thick, glossy curtain of hair, now looked exposed, vulnerable. Her cheekbones stood out more, her neck seemed longer, and the soft shadows that used to fall across her skin were gone, leaving nothing to hide behind.
“Perfect,” her stepmother said from behind her, sounding satisfied as she looked over the barber’s work. “You look so refreshed, Val. This is exactly what you needed.”
Valerie’s throat felt tight, her mouth dry. She wanted to speak, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she managed a weak smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah… thanks,” she whispered, barely hearing her own voice over the blood rushing in her ears. She felt as though she were underwater, everything distant and muffled, even the steady hum of the clippers as they were switched off.
The barber stepped back, brushing away the last bits of stray hair from her shoulders, as if sweeping away the final remnants of who she used to be. He gave her a brief nod in the mirror, an awkward smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly uncertain about how to respond to the emotions swirling in the room.
“You’re all set,” he said, his voice breaking the silence like an uninvited guest. “Looks good on you.”
Valerie blinked at her reflection, the harshness of the overhead lights casting a glare across the polished surface of the mirror. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted it to her scalp, fingertips grazing the rough, prickly texture of her freshly buzzed head. The sensation sent an electric jolt through her, like touching a stranger’s skin for the first time.
“Come on, let’s get going,” her stepmother said brightly, already gathering her bag and motioning toward the door. “We’ve got errands to run, and you’ll be so much more comfortable now. You can thank me later.”
Valerie stood slowly, feeling unsteady as she slid off the chair, the unfamiliar lightness of her head making her feel off balance. Her legs felt weak, like they might give out beneath her. She could feel the eyes of the barber and her stepbrother on her, but no one said anything as she followed her stepmother out the door, the bell above it tinkling softly as they stepped into the blinding sunlight.
The heat outside hit her like a wall, but instead of the usual oppressive weight, she felt an eerie coolness on the back of her neck and head, a breeze where there should have been warmth. She instinctively reached up again, her fingers tracing the buzzed lines of her scalp, a nervous habit she couldn’t break. There was no hiding from it. No more flipping her hair over her shoulder, no more absentmindedly twirling a lock between her fingers.
Her stepmother walked a few paces ahead, cheerful and oblivious, already talking about the next stop. Valerie didn’t hear her. She couldn’t focus on anything other than the hollow, empty sensation gnawing at her chest. Each step she took felt heavier, as if the ground was pulling her down, anchoring her to this moment in a way she couldn’t escape.
A couple passed by, their eyes flicking briefly to her, curiosity and surprise barely masked in their expressions. She could almost hear their thoughts—*What happened to her hair?*—and she found herself walking faster, her heart pounding louder with each glance that followed her. She hadn’t thought about the stares. She hadn’t thought about how different she would look to everyone else.
But she couldn’t run from it now.
The reflection in every passing window was a stranger’s. Her silhouette was sharper, more pronounced, and the buzzed scalp made her feel small, like a child pretending to wear someone else’s skin. There was a disconnect between how she felt inside and the person the world now saw.
Her stepmother glanced back at her, oblivious to the turmoil. “Feeling better already, right? You’re going to love how easy it is to manage.”
Valerie forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. “Yeah, definitely easier.”
She tried to keep her voice light, but the words tasted bitter in her mouth. Easier, sure. Easier to look at, easier to manage, easier to control. But it wasn’t just hair that had been cut away—it was a part of her identity, the part she had never thought she’d have to defend.
As they walked, Valerie’s mind drifted to the moments before the cut. The safety of the weight of her hair, the comfort it had brought her through all these years. She had never realized just how much of herself was tied up in those strands until they were gone, scattered across the barbershop floor like a broken promise.
A small voice inside her whispered that it would grow back, that it was just hair. But that voice was drowned out by the louder, more immediate truth—it wasn’t just hair. It was a connection to who she was, and now it was severed.
By the time they reached the car, Valerie was numb. She slid into the passenger seat, the seatbelt feeling strangely foreign against her newly exposed skin. The air conditioning blew cold against her head, and she shivered, though she wasn’t cold. Her stepmother chatted on, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling inside her.
As they pulled away from the curb, Valerie rested her head against the window, staring out at the passing streets, her reflection faint against the glass. She barely recognized the girl staring back at her.
*So much lighter,* she thought to herself, though the words carried no joy, only a profound sense of loss.
Her stepmother’s voice cut through her thoughts again. “You’ll get used to it, trust me. One day, you’ll look back and thank me.”
Valerie didn’t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, wishing she could shut out the world, the buzzing of the clippers still echoing in her mind like a ghost. The weight of her hair was gone, but the weight of the change—the weight of what she had lost—remained. And it would take far longer than a summer for her to come to terms with it.
