Scratching the Itch

I’ve attached links to before and after photos at the bottom of the page, so check those out if you wish 🙂

 

I stopped briefly to examine myself in the reflection of the window. I’m examining my hair. Of course I am, I’m about to walk into a salon. I have thick, dark, curly hair that falls past my shoulders, almost to my bra strap. On the occasion I straighten it, it’ll reach the small of my back.

Today I have a consultation at the aptly named Abercrombie Studio on Abercrombie Street in London’s Battersea. I’ve booked this consultation to discuss cutting all my hair off. And I mean all of it.

Even as I began to push open the door of the salon I struggled to believe what I had put into motion. My hair has always been long. Yet since I was a teenager I had been telling myself and friends and boyfriends that one day I would shave it all off. Why? I guess mostly so I can say I’ve done it. Sure there are all the other good reasons; trying something different, removing all the maintenance attached to long curly hair and stepping out of my comfort zone. But for years and years (I’m 23 now) it’s been the thing I’ve always said I’d do, yet never actually worked up the courage. For years there’s been that itch, which I’ve still yet to scratch.

Moving from Australia to London for my Masters felt like the perfect excuse. New city, new me. It’s a cliche for sure but I needed something to trick myself into making the jump.

Even after arriving in London however I found myself reluctant to pull the trigger. It wasn’t until I got an Instagram add for Abercrombie Studio that I decided to make that jump. With butterflies in my stomach I hopped onto their website. Scheduling a consultation felt like the responsible adult decision. Or maybe subconsciously I just wanted to delay a little bit longer.

I picked out a stylist called Claire. She was black like me, with a cute tapered pixie cut and was described on the website as “Our Resident Short Hair Expert”. Seemed like the easy choice to me.

Despite it only being a consultation as I walked into the salon I was nervous. It was a large space with high ceilings and exposed brick walls. There was a large open waiting area as you walked in with low black leather couches. At the opposite wall was a collection of washing basins. Against both of the side walls were salon chairs with large mirrors in front of them. Their Instagram described them as unisex and open to all hair types. It was definitely a trendy spot I had found.

My nerves subsided once I met Claire. She was lively and easy going. I immediately knew I had made the right decision picking her for this massive change.

Right as I brought up that I wanted to cut my hair off, her face lit up immediately.

“So how short are we thinking?” She asked, tilting her head.

I was sat in her chair, she was on a wheeled stool. My hair was streaming over my shoulders.

“Very short.” I said somewhat uncertainly.

“As short as mine?”

Claire’s hair couldn’t have been much more than 2 inches at its longest. I took a deep breath.

“My original plan was to properly shave it off and bleach it…” I blinked hard a few times. “But… Yeah I’m not sure, I might start with something more like your length.”

Claire slowly exhaled and nodded. A wide smile slowly spread across her face.

“Okay, okay, okay. This is a proper cut. Like a buzzcut you mean?”

I showed her the photo I had seen on Pinterest which must have been 3 or 4 years ago.  A bleached blonde impossibly short buzzcut.

“But I’m also open to maybe doing more of like a pixie cut, if you think it’s best to start with something like that.” I chuckled slightly. “Instead of jumping right into the deep end I guess”

Claire immediately shook her head.

“No, no.” She said. “I mean if that’s what you want to do, then let’s go for it I say. Have you thought about it for a while?”

“Probably like 5 years.” I felt somewhat meek as I spoke.

“Well then we can definitely go for the buzzcut. You know, and this is probably a me thing,” She paused for a second to collect her thoughts. “The classic thing for a hairdresser to say is ‘start longer we can always go shorter’”

She had curled her fingers into quotation marks as she spoke.

“I’m kinda the opposite. Especially with a short haircut. Because it grows so fast when it’s that short. From that haircut you showed me, to my haircut let’s say, that’s like 4 or 5 months. You see what I’m saying? So essentially you’ll go from the buzzcut to like a cute faded cut, to like the cute tapered pixie to something a bit longer. All within the next 12 months.”

It wasn’t what I had expected from her. I thought back to other times I had told people about cutting my hair off. My mum was horrified at the idea. My boyfriend when I was 17 hated the thought of it. I remember bringing it up at a salon a couple years ago and the stylist suggested trying something to my shoulders first and that shaving it all off would be traumatic.

Yet Claire seemed to be the complete opposite. Her enthusiasm had completely caught me off guard. The consultation time slot was only 15 minutes but I felt as though I knew Claire as a friend by the end of it. We hugged as I left with an appointment made for 12pm in 2 days time.

I had a smile plastered on my face as I walked outside. It was really happening. I had taken another, quite big step towards this transformation I’ve been talking about for years. I felt as though I had timed things perfectly. My first classes were in 2 weeks. I would meet everyone as the cool light skin girl from Australia with a bleached buzzcut. There wouldn’t be all the fuss about how nice my hair was before and how they couldn’t believe I cut it all off, simply because they would never have seen my hair.

As I got home however I could feel a slight pit in my stomach. Some of the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. I hung on to the connection I had made with Claire. How excited she seemed for me.

The morning of my appointment however the overarching emotion I felt was dread. Anytime over the days leading up to my appointment that I thought about what was actually about to happen I struggled to stay calm. It was hard to wrap my head around the whole thing. No one was forcing this to happen. Only myself. Any time I liked I could simply call it all off. There would be no repercussions. But I felt as though there was no backing out now. For years this had been in my mind. I wasn’t getting any younger.

I began to find mirrors difficult. Even opening Snapchat and seeing the mane of curls framing my face and spilling down my chest. Is it possible that your hair looks its best right before you plan on cutting it all off?

My appointment was at midday. I had put on a heavier than normal face of makeup and left my house early to get a coffee out. I had on a black halter tank top, dark green Adidas running shorts with pink stripes down the sides and black leather loafers. It was a hot day and considering that it was early September I figured it might be one of the last warm days of the year.

As I sipped my coffee and walked towards the salon I considered calling someone back home. I was yet to tell any of my friends or family. Once I did, backing out would be difficult. Maybe not difficult but awkward. I decided against a last minute call home. Any reaction other than overwhelming support would probably send me spiraling.

I turned onto Abercrombie Street. I could see the sign of the salon just a bit down the road. I opened the selfie camera of my phone and took a few last pics of my hair. I had given it a wash this morning and it was looking as lush as ever.

I had reached the door to the salon. I considered doing one more loop of the street, I was a couple minutes early but pushed the thought away. Delaying would just make me more nervous, I figured. I pushed open the door and took in the busy site of the salon. I could see in the distance most of the chairs filled and I spotted Claire working on a client.

I took a seat on one of the couches and immediately an assistant came up to me asking about my appointment. She let me know that Claire would be a bit delayed and offered me a coffee which I declined.

I sat in a meditative silence. Anxious thoughts kept rising and I kept trying to push them away. Suddenly Claire was in front of me.

“Hey girl!” She said and I stood up so we could hug. I immediately felt better.

“I’m running quite a bit behind. I’m really sorry. It’s been a bit crazy this morning.” She explained apologetically.

“No worries.” I smiled back.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna get a friend of mine to do the initial cut.”

My first reaction was that she meant some friend from outside of the salon. My face clearly displayed my confusion and Claire leaned close to me and put her hand against my arm

“I mean Declan, he works here.” She took a half step back. “He’s done my hair a lot of times, he’s really really good, trust.”

I tried to fight the feeling of sickness rising from my stomach. I liked when things went to plan, and this last minute deviation had me unsure what to think.

“Like he’ll just get rid of the hair, take it down and then I’ll put in the bleach and then taper it and you know fix it so it’s nice and proper.”

I felt as though I had to say something.

“Okay, that’s fine.” I strained a smile.

In my head however I knew it wasn’t fine. In fact my nerves, which I had just about got under control were now at an all time high. Claire was the main reason I felt ready going through with this dramatic transformation, and I was looking forward to her calming nature to be alongside me during the process. Now some random guy was going to be doing the biggest part instead.

It shouldn’t have mattered, at least that’s what I tried to convince myself. I had decided that I wanted to shave my head, why should it matter who would be doing the actual shaving. But I still felt an overwhelming sense of uneasiness.

“I’m so sorry, like, today has just been crazy.” Claire’s apology was genuine and I wanted to make sure she didn’t feel guilty.

“No, no it’s okay, I get it.” Another strained smile from me.

Claire gave a toothy smile back.

“Ok let’s go see him and then I’ll be done with this client in like 20 minutes, 20 minutes at the max I promise.”

She motioned for me to follow and she led the way across the room, the opposite side to where her station was. I took a few deep breaths and followed. I hadn’t noticed before but the opposite side of the room seemed to be a bit more “barbery” for lack of a better word. There were 5 chairs, just like the other side, but the chairs were all larger, still black but definitely something you would find at a barbershop. I could feel my uneasiness growing inside. I suddenly had a desperate urge to reach out to Claire and ask if we could just wait until she was done with her client. But instead I remained silent, dreading my decision of cutting my hair more and more by the minute.

Claire had stopped next to one of the barber chairs. Just like the other side the whole wall was exposed brick. Large mirrors laid against the wall, in front of each chair.

A tall guy was stood facing away from the both of us, talking to a dark skinned girl with cornrows.

“Declan.” Claire interrupted their conversation and tapped his shoulder.

He turned around expectingly. He was a white guy, well over 6 foot, with kind of shaggy blonde hair protruding from a baseball cap. Acne scars gave me the impression he was young, probably my age or younger even. He definitely fit the vibe of the place, with loose Carhartt pants and Vans he had a bit of a skater look to him.

“Claire,” he smiled warmly. “What’s up with you?”

“This is the thing I was talking about, yeah?” Claire motioned to me.

I felt slightly awkward standing there and found myself surveying my surroundings. Declan’s chair was second to the right, the chair to his right being occupied by a silent teen having his skin fade fixed up. The girl with the cornrows had an empty chair in front of her.

“Yeah right, cool.” He nodded a smirk to me.

“Just take her down to a 2 all over and then send her back over, I’ll be done by then alright.”

“Say less.” Declan kept his eyes on me and I felt my face start to heat up.

“Okay, amazing.” Clair placed her hands together. She turned to face me. “Well I’ll see you in a little bit then.”

She raised her eyebrows expectantly before walking back to her side of the room. I felt as though things were happening so fast. She hadn’t even introduced us before she ran off.

“So what’s your name sorry?” Declan spoke, making my head turn to face him.

“Erika.” I answered back with an unexpected sharpness. It was almost a bark for an answer.

“You ready?” Declan had shifted his weight towards the chair next to him. It was facing the mirror, and I could hear the drone of clippers from the chair to my right. The constant buzzing has begun to make me uneasy.

“Yeah, for sure.” I managed.

He took a couple steps towards the chair and smoothly rotated it towards me. It was definitely nothing like I had seen before. A lot bulkier than any salon chair I had used, with black leather cushioning and steel armrests.

Feeling weightless I found myself plodding down onto the chair. The chair was turned to face the mirror and I was greeted by my reflection. My hair hung over my shoulders, almost reaching my breasts. It reminded me just how healthy my hair actually was. I could hardly believe what was about to happen.

“So a number 2?” Declan had moved in front of me as he spoke.

“I have a photo.” I swiftly pulled my phone out, not wanting any possibility of confusion regarding the haircut. I pulled up the photo I had shown Claire and passed it over to Declan.

He studied it for a few seconds. I awkwardly took in my surroundings. The mirror went from the floor to what must’ve been 2 meters high. To each side of the mirror, simplistic black shelving. Various clippers, razors, trimmers, scissors and other instruments were visible.

“Hmmm.” He nodded and handed the phone back to me. “I’ll definitely start with a number 2.”

He looked at me and pursed his lips.

“You ready for this?”

I broke eye contact and instead took myself in through the mirror. My hair seemed to stare back at me. I knew I had to try and be brave, this was something I had wanted to do for so long. Last minute nerves were to be expected, I just had to soldier on.

“Gonna be a big big change.” Declan remarked and I looked up to see his head cocked.

“Yeah,” I found myself exhaling as I spoke. “I’m ready though.”

I wished I could take back my words almost immediately. I took my tongue in between my teeth and tried to think about how much I had wanted to do this.

“Cool.” Declan seemed happy to satisfy his morals and he took a few steps towards the shelving. He grabbed a roll of paper and stood behind me.

I felt his fingers rake through my hair, pulling it back over my shoulders. Then a strip of paper was placed around my neck. It was a foreign feeling and confirmed the process was about to begin.

A black and white pinstripe cape was unfurled and then clipped around my neck. Looking at myself in the mirror I struggled to believe this was actually about to happen. Months and months of saying I would one day do this and here I was, looking quite small in the large chair with my whole body engulfed by a cape. I would’ve sold a kidney just to stop time for a moment, I felt as though it was all moving along so fast and wished Claire was here to calm me down.

“I’ll just cut off some length to start with.” Declan had his head cocked to the side as he spoke. He gently flicked some of my hair over my shoulder.

“Sounds good.” I breathlessly squeaked back.

“I’ll just cut it off with my scissors, down to a few inches. Do you want to save any of it maybe? Like save a ponytail or something?”

The question had somewhat caught me off guard. Maybe saving something would be a nice memento. I however was noticing a feeling of dread take over more by the minute. Maybe this wasn’t going to be an experience I would want to remember.

“Uhhh, I… I don’t think so.” I couldn’t have sounded more uncertain. “It’s fine.”

Declan shrugged.

“Up to you.”

“No, no it’s fine.” I felt as though I was becoming some sort of burden.

Declan simply nodded and walked to the shelf. I couldn’t see his hands but heard the metallic scrape of what must’ve been scissors on the shelf. My suspicions were proven as he turned back to face me, brandishing silver blades in his hand.

My throat was drying up at an alarming rate. I tried to imagine how I would react to the first cut. Please don’t make a scene, I said to myself.

Declan moved towards me and I instinctively drew in a breath. My hands gripped the armrests under the cape. I noticed my leg had been bouncing up and down ever since I sat in the chair and tried unsuccessfully to keep it still.

I tried to imagine how he would start the process. I guess he could take his time, snip away each curl with care. Or there would be a faster option. Grabbing large handfuls and hacking them off. I couldn’t decide what I would prefer. Both seemed like they would carry their own unique aspects of torment. If he proceeded slowly, the process would be dragged out, forced to sit and watch as he methodically removed lock after lock. I shuddered at the thought. I then imagined him roughly chopping off large chunks. Big hunks of curls just tossed to the ground. Suddenly the slower option felt better. I had beautiful hair, I felt as though its demise should at least be a respectable one.

It seemed as though Declan himself was also debating just how to tackle the impending haircut. It almost seemed as if he was stalling, standing just to my side, scissors in one hand, his other hand scratching his stubble. I realized, with a growing sick feeling in my stomach, he was probably still trying to wrap his mind around why a girl with so much hair would want to shave it all off.

Gently he put his free hand into my hair. I exhaled shakily at the touch. He seemed to be separating a chunk, it was hard for me to see exactly through the mirror.

“What sort of cut you doing?” a voice from the left caught Declan and I both somewhat by surprise.

I turned abruptly to see the hairdresser at the adjacent chair looking at us with her arms crossed. It was the corn rowed stylist I had seen before. Her Air Max’s tapped the floor rhymically as she waited for a reply. Khaki parachute pants and an oversized black t-shirt completed her look. I noticed 2 heavily tattooed arms protruding from her sleeves.

“Buzzing it all.” Declan replied. “She’s booked in with Claire to get a bleach too.”

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

“Buzz cut?” She took a few steps closer.

I felt somewhat grateful for her intervention, solely due to the fact it seemed to be buying me a bit more precious time. Time to attempt to collect myself.

I looked up at her with a smile and nodded.

“Yep.” I attempted to sound casual as I spoke.

“Don’t want to let her go in with the clippers herself first?” The stylist had directed the question to Declan.

“Uhhh, I don’t know. I was gonna start just cutting it down with the shears first.” Declan held up the blades as he spoke. “You want to do the first cut?”

I felt my panic rise even further.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I tried to chuckle but my throat was so dry I had to abandon it halfway through.

“You sure?” Declan clicked the scissors together a few times.

“Yeah… I uh.” I swallowed, desperate for this dryness in my throat to be relieved. “I’ll leave it to the expert.”

“But you’re not gonna start with the clippers?” The stylist asked Declan.

“You think?” I saw Declan looking at my hair, trying to take in what she was saying. “I don’t think my clippers are getting through all this.”

“Wanna borrow my Oster’s?” She held up her hand in an offering gesture. “Just last week I was taking someone down from a full ‘fro, and I just went in with them.”

I felt a bead of sweat forming on the back of my neck. Declan starting with scissors seemed like a gentler way to start this process, the further I could delay the clippers the better. I had my fingers crossed he would reject her offer.

“It’s way more satisfying, trust.” The stylist nodded as she spoke. “Just watching it fall off like that,” She bit her lip. “Much more of an experience.”

To my terror Declan started nodding.

“Let’s do it then.” He placed the scissors back on the counter.

I went to open my mouth. I was paying for this haircut, I should have a say in how it’s done. I needed to speak up. But I couldn’t find my voice. It had simply escaped me. I instead sat silently as I watched the stylist walk briskly to her station.

The whole process reminded me of surgeons talking about their patient while they were under anesthesia. As if I couldn’t hear a thing and they were simply discussing which scalpel to use. Except I wasn’t under anesthesia. In fact all my senses were heightened to a level I had never felt before. My leg was still bouncing, my fingers tightly gripping the arm rest, sweat forming all over and my throat parched.

The stylist, whose name I still hadn’t learnt, returned with large black clippers in hand. For the first time I actually thought I would be sick. Just seeing how large and industrial this machine looked had me trying to focus on not throwing up.

“The big guns, Becky, I see you, I see you.” Declan accepted the clippers with a smile.

“You know it.” She winked.

Declan unwound the cord and bent over to plug them into the socket.

“First time going short like this?” Becky asked me.

“Yeah it is.” I didn’t want to speak at this point. My main focus was on my breathing and keeping this feeling of puking under control.

“Nice.” She nodded slowly.

Declan stood up and moved towards my right side. My eyes were firmly fixed on the clippers he now held.

A strange moment of somewhat calmness overcame me at this point. Almost as though I knew the situation was inevitable. A drew a large, slightly shaky, breath of air and tried my best to untense my body.

Any feeling of calmness, no matter how fleeting, was completely erased as Declan switched on the clippers. Never had a sound spread such a feeling of fear across my body. I had heard clippers before, but never so close to me. It felt as though my whole body was vibrating.

I felt a hand go into my hair and I tried my best not to recoil at the touch. Declan was grabbing a section just behind my right ear.

“We ready then?” His voice felt distant compared to the clippers droning in my ear.

“Yep.” I snapped the reply back. I felt a level of sickness I had never felt before.

“Mind if I watch?” Becky said and she wheeled across a small stool.

I didn’t really seem to have any choice but to accept and I gave the slightest nod in reply.

I felt Declan lift the chunk of hair away from my head.

“Here we go.”

I could see the clippers moving closer towards me in the mirror. The droning getting closer and closer. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Almost the moment I shut my eyes I felt the whirring machine touch my hairline. Slowly it moved up against my head, making a terrible chewing noise as it went. I could feel it mowing away the hair as it went.

I opened my eyes in time to see Declan holding up what must’ve been at least 12 inches of my curls, now disconnected from my head. Curls I had cared for my whole life. Curls I had been complimented on my whole life. The process to remove them had begun and was irreversible.

He held up the hair he had removed, almost as if he was inspecting it. He placed it on my capped lap.

“There we go.” He said gently.

Seeing my own hair lying lifelessly in front of me had me panicking on a new level. What I was doing was so undeniable now, soon all my hair would be lying just as lifelessly.

In the mirror I couldn’t really see any sort of difference. The section he started with was slightly out of my vision, plus there was still so much hair I doubted I would be able to see it that well anyways.

Declan was reaching for another section again, behind the initial cut. I managed to keep my eyes open this time as I felt the clippers methodically pulled up my scalp. Again another chunk was removed and held for inspection by Declan.

Becky made a motioning gesture and to my distaste Declan walked over to her and dropped the handful of curls into her open hand.

She scrunched her face up, feigning sadness as she ran her fingers over my hair.

“Such beautiful hair.” She almost sighed as she continued running her fingers across it.

My overwhelming feeling of fear was now being mixed with anger. I wanted to snatch it from her, it was my hair after all, even if it wasn’t attached to my head anymore.

My attention was snitched back to my shearing as Declan tipped my head forward slightly and I felt the clippers digging into the back of my head. Declan wasn’t holding up the hair for inspection anymore and I could feel fat hunks of curls dropping down the back of the cape.

It felt as though Declan was picking up the pace, with my head tucked forward the clippers were constantly running up the back of my scalp, my head feeling noticeably lighter with each pass. I could feel a foreign breeze on the back of my head as more and more of my hair plopped down the back of the chair to the floor.

“They work well huh?” Becky said. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, still watching intently.

“Oh yeah.” Declan replied somewhat gleefully.

The back of my head must’ve been almost completely bare of hair. As he ran the clippers up my head I could feel his fingers directly against my scalp.

“It’ll just go through everything.” Becky said with pride. Her clippers were standing up to the challenge of my abundance of hair with ease.

“Satisfying how it all just drops off like that.” Declan said. I tried to imagine what his view looked like, watching curl after curl fall to the ground.

The clippers continued to mow up the back of my head and gently I felt Declan begin to reposition my head as he made his way to my left side. The clippers were just behind my left ear now and again I was subjected to hearing them chew away my locks. Declan was efficient and used large purposeful passes of the clippers as he worked.

Still in the mirror everything looked somewhat normal. I could feel how much hair had been sheared away and the back of my head felt very light. Yet my view of myself made it look as though nothing had happened yet.

This all changed quickly. As the clippers motored past my ears I couldn’t help but stifle a gasp as I watched a bundle of curls land on my caped shoulder before slowly tumbling onto my lap. I could barely fathom so much hair coming off in just a single pass of the clippers. I struggled to keep my eyes off the locks and before I knew it I watched another chunk of curls tumble down next to them.

I felt my ear being folded over and the clippers reached a new level of noise as they motored across my head. I struggled not to wince and felt my shoulders tense up.

Looking in the mirror, I turned my head slightly and could now see the result of the clippers with my own eyes. Next to my ear my hair was now a pelt. So short it was ridiculous. With a feeling of dread I realized the entire back of my head looked like this now. Probably close to half my head was now bare, completely devoid of the curls I had always known.

My mind filled with the reactions I knew I would receive. People would think I was crazy, maybe going through a mental health episode. I struggled to think what I would say in return.

I watched myself in the mirror as the clippers continued around my left ear. Bundle after bundle of hair plopped down onto the cape.

To my left I noticed Becky had returned to her station, clearly having seen enough herself. Declan’s face was one of concentration as he sheared away lock after lock.

“Just need you to tuck your head in for a second.” He said while gently pushing the back of my head forward.

My view was now mostly taken up by the hair covered cape but when I looked up I could still make out my reflection. I watched as he began lifting up a handful of hair from the crown of my head. Methodically he pushed the clippers across my head, from the crown to my fringe area. Forlornly I watched the handful tumble past my eyes, tickling my nose before hitting the cape. Nothing but stubble lay in the clippers’ wake.

With my chin tucked to my chest, I watched as Declan continued this technique, curl after curl brushing my face as it fell past me. The clippers were having no trouble getting through my hair at all and it felt as if they were a lawnmower. Instead of my curls being something beautiful they were simply grass that was too long and needed to mowed away.

I looked up and saw that no hair remained on top of my head. My chest was beginning to seize up the more I looked in the mirror. I felt my eyes begin to mist over and I decided it would be best to keep them shut.

I felt Declan at my right now. Moments later and I felt the clippers by my right ear. I tried to focus on my breathing as I felt more hair rain down past my shoulder. My ear was folded over and I couldn’t stop my spine tingling as the machine motored past me.

“Doing alright?” Declan asked.

I opened my eyes. The girl that stared back at me looked unbelievably foreign. A head of stubble where boundless curls normally were. On the side of my head remained one small bunch of my hair. It looked out of place. Almost like that rat tail hairstyle. I wanted this to all be over.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” I breathed back.

Almost as to put me out of my misery Declan lifted the last of my long hair and swiftly mowed it away. Gone was any evidence of my hair. The thick, bouncy curls I had always known, would now only live on in memory or photos. The thought made me panick synonym. In what couldn’t have been much more than 5 minutes, a lifetime of long hairedness had ended.

“Just need to fix up a few things.” Declan announced as he walked to the counter and replaced the big black clippers with a slightly smaller silver model.

I wondered what Declan had thought of the whole process. It seemed like just another day for him. A head of hair was put in front of him and he cut it. I doubted he had ever administered such a severe transformation, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He probably enjoyed it all, I noted, feeling a bit uneasy. I was sure Claire would’ve made this experience less daunting.

My head was tilted down and I again felt the clippers against my head. I guessed he was cleaning up, fixing any anomalies. I sat in silence as he worked, my mind all over the place.

“Wait until you see how much hair is all over the floor.” Declan grinned as he spoke. “It’s mad. Crazy to think you carried that all around.”

The chair was large enough that I couldn’t peer at the floor with ease. If I strained and moved my head I probably could but I had no desire to. In fact I was pretty sure seeing my hair laid out across the floor would cause me to throw up. I strained a smile and tried to keep my eyes straight ahead.

“I can imagine.” Was all I managed.

Still the clipper worked it’s way across my head. I still felt unable to acclimatize to the consistent droning noise they produced and even though I wasn’t losing anymore length I felt on edge.

Another few minutes passed before the clippers were finally switched off. The silence felt deafening.

Looking in the mirror I couldn’t keep my eyes off myself. My lack of hair felt deafening. Never had I felt so small. The cape seemed to engulf me even more without hair protruding from my head.

Declan returned the clippers to the counter and returned with a brush. He quickly brushed away any loose hairs from my neck before brushing away the pile of hair in front of me, flicking the cape slightly as he did. The hair made an audible thud as it tumbled to the ground. He moved behind me, removing the paper from my neck before pulling away the cape with a flourish.

“There we go.” He sounded proud of his work as he put away the cape.

Gingerly I pushed myself out of the chair. I tried my best to not tilt my head down, not wanting to see the hair strewn across the floor. My eyes seemed to have a mind of their own however and reluctantly I glanced to the floor.

I knew I had a lot of hair but the amount I saw in front of me didn’t seem possible. It was truly an absurd amount. In front of the chair sat a pile of my dark curls, the ones that had been dumped from my cape. Surrounding the chair in a semicircle was more various lengths of my curly locks. It was directly behind the chair however where the largest pile sat. From a distance you could’ve sworn it was a small dog. I struggled taking my eyes off the mass, realizing all the hair from the back of my head had fallen into one neat pile.

I struggled to stop tears forming and my vision getting slightly blurry. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do at this point and stood rather awkwardly next to the mess of hair on the floor.

“Feeling a bit lighter?” Declan was grinning as he spoke.

“A bit yeah.” I was blinking back tears at this point.

I turned to look around the salon and my eyes instantly locked on Claire who was walking briskly towards me.

“It looks so good!” She exclaimed as she reached me. “Do you love it?”

“It’s very cool, yeah.” I said, trying to feign enthusiastism.

I would be lying if I said the next hour was an enjoyable experience. Claire took me back to her chair and began the bleaching process. I struggled keeping up small talk as Claire applied the bleach across my scalp. It was cool at first before a warm tingly sensation took over. I was then left alone for a while as the bleach processed. Claire checked in every 10 or so minutes until she took me to a basin and began washing it out. It was an unbelievably strange sensation. The water was directly on my scalp.

Back in the chair I could see the almost finished product. The girl that looked back at me in the mirror had icy blond hair and barely any of it. Claire ran her hand across the top of my crown and I could feel my neck hairs stand up. There was nothing left on my head.

“Just a few last finishing touches.” She said as she picked up a pair of sleek silver clippers.

She moved the clippers with care across my head, a tiny dusting of white hair occasionally falling like snow to my shoulders. She then removed the guard from them and tilted my head towards my chin and ran them over my nape area. She folded over my ears and did the same. You would think I would be desensitised to the loud machines by now but I still flinched as they touched my skin.

Finally the clippers were turned off for good. She dusted off my head and neck and with a flourish the cape was swung off me.

It was done. I had finally gone and done it. All my hair was gone. I gingerly turned back to Declan’s chair, half hoping to still see it sprawled across the floor, just for one final time. Unfortunately it was long gone, probably somewhere in the bin now I figured.

Claire gave me a big hug, told me how much she loved it and suggested we make another appointment in the next couple months. I said I would and tried to match her grin and excitement.

Just like that I was back on the street. I placed my hand on the back of my neck and slowly pushed it up and up until it was atop my head. The lack of resistance was unsettling. Prickly fuzz was all that was left. I picked a few stray hairs off my tongue.

I knew it was a bad idea but I opened my phone and look at the photos I had taken right before the appointment. Big mistake. A totally different girl was on my screen. One with beautiful, full bodied curls. Curls that had been cared for and loved. I shuddered. Putting my phone deep into my pocket I started my walk back home.

Hope you enjoyed!

 

Before:

https://pin.it/42UC14Dgg

After:

https://pin.it/6zTNig3Lx