Sharon is so combative…

Jack and Sharon had been planning their two-week cruise for months. Jack was meticulous about everything, from the itinerary to the packing list. One thing he wouldn’t let go of, however, was Sharon’s hair. He had been nagging her for weeks to cut it short, a style he insisted looked “clean and fresh” for the cruise. Sharon, on the other hand, detested the look. She loved her hair longer, soft around her face, and had no intention of chopping it off.

Saturday night, Jack brought it up again.

“Did you get your hair cut yet?” he asked as they finished dinner.

Sharon shook her head, feigning indifference. “Oops. I forgot to stop by Sam’s. Guess it’ll have to wait until after the trip, after all, it did save us $75 dollars!”

Jack’s lips thinned into a hard line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it soon.”

Sharon assumed she had dodged his wrath, at least for a few weeks. What Sharon didn’t know was that Jack had been scrolling through Facebook earlier in the week and stumbled upon a post about the city festival. Among the list of vendors was City Barbershop, offering discount back-to-school haircuts. It was perfect, Jack thought. A chance to “help” Sharon while crossing off the task she had avoided.

Sunday morning, Jack suggested they visit the city festival before heading to the airport. Sharon was thrilled by the idea. She loved festivals—the food, the music, the craft booths. It seemed like the perfect way to kick off their vacation.

As they wandered through the stalls, Jack steered her toward a tent with a large sign that read: “City Barbershop: Back-to-School Haircuts – the old fashioned barber pole spinning fast!”

“Look at this!” he said, grinning. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

Sharon’s stomach sank. “Jack, no. This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Jack said, leading her to the line.

When they reached the front, the barber greeted them cheerfully. “What’ll it be?”

“A high-and-tight,” Jack said, ignoring Sharon’s protests. “Really short. Military-style.”

Sharon tried to get up from the chair, but Jack’s firm tone stopped her. “You’ve been putting this off too long. It’s time to get it done.”

The barber worked quickly, the clippers buzzing loudly as chunks of Sharon’s hair fell to the ground. She winced as the harsh blade grazed her scalp. The once-soft strands that framed her face were replaced by stark, bristly stubble. The loud clippers slowly removed any sign that Sharon was a gal. Maybe Private Sharon, as the frumpy female barber seemed to really enjoy taking her down to skin.

The looks from the passers by was epic. Some looking on in awe, others with a visible OMG look.

When the barber spun her around to show the final result, Sharon barely recognized herself. Her head was practically bald, with only a faint shadow of hair left.

“There ya go yong lady, one regulation high-n-tight, extra short, should hold you through any vacation.”

As they walked away, Sharon couldn’t stop her hand from drifting to the back of her neck. Over and over, she rubbed her nape, desperately trying to find any trace of the hair she once loved. Each time, her fingers met only the coarse, prickly texture of her nearly bare scalp. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as the reality of what had just happened sank in.

A group of her friends from work happened to walk by and gasped before breaking into a silent laughter.

“Wow, Sharon, bold choice!” one of them said, failing to hide a smirk.

Jack chuckled, clearly amused by her discomfort.

“How does it feel to have a flattop among all the gals with beautiful long locks?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery.

“I mean you’ll be the hit of the ship, the only woman on board with a Flattop!”

Sharon’s face reddened as she wiped away her tears, her hand still reflexively touching her nape. The comment cut deeper than the clippers had.

As they headed to the airport, Jack continued his ridicule. “Who’d have thought I’d be cruising with G.I. Jane? Don’t worry—maybe someone onboard has a thing for flattops and middle-aged women with a big ass.”

Sharon sat in silence, gripping the armrest of her seat on the plane. She had never felt so humiliated, so stripped of her confidence and dignity.

“It’s going to be Ok babe, you know I love the whole face down ass up position. I’ll now be able to get you from behind and rub your bald ass nape.”

As they walked through the airport, Jack walked behind – his gal walking ahead in heels, skin tight jeans and of course, that cut, the one she dreaded.

“Hey look over there babe, they have a barbershop here at the terminal, think we have time to get you over for a quick trim? Just kiiding sweetheart, but we will stop in when we fly back in next weekend. That barber in there looks to be large and in charge.”

But as the plane ascended into the sky, she made herself a promise: when they returned, she’d find a way to reclaim her sense of self—one that didn’t involve Jack or his relentless need for control. Or maybe she would simply comply, after all. it’s been like this for years.

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