sub

“I love you,” I said trying to sound like I meant it as my reluctant child got out of the car and trudged towards the school building.

It had been one of those mornings.  I’d literally had to order my kid to do every single step of the getting ready process while standing over her. “Put on your sock!…. PUT ON YOUR OTHER DAMNED SOCK!!”  Obviously the bus had been missed.  Heck, the bus had been missed before “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHICH SHIRT YOU WEAR, JUST PUT ONE OF THEM ON!!!” 

As I pulled away from the school, and contemplated whether I should just head to my nearby office, or if I should make the longer drive and stop at Staples first for the toner I was running low on first, I turned up the radio.  It was not exactly a difficult decision, I was just kind of sick and tired of having to make every single god damned decision.

I loved being a mom, but it was tiring being the one who always had to be the first one up and the last one to bed.  I was the assigner of chores that didn’t get done unless I put more energy into reminding and supervising than it would have taken to just do the damned task myself.  I was the finder of things, the scheduler, the writer of grocery lists, and the payer of bills.  I was the giver of consequences; I was the enforcer of rules.  I was even the explainer of why society has fucking rules in the first place.   

I loved having my own business, but fuck if that wasn’t exhausting too.  Again, I was the doer of everything, the wearer of 20 different hats.  Writer of cheques.  Maker of all decisions.  The person who sat at the desk under “The Buck Stops Here Plaque,” figuratively, I didn’t torture myself with an actual plaque.  

I turned up the radio that was playing Electric Light Orchestra’s “Fire on High,” which was feeding my mood, and I should probably change channels to something calm and soothing, but something about the music matching my hectic morning felt good.  

And why the hell had I agreed to run for the fucking school board.  Yes, it was important that someone stepped up after Sue decided she was done and wasn’t running again after the fifth death threat.  And of course I’d won by just about a dozen votes.  So I needed to get to the school board meeting tonight, just like I did every other thursday.

As I drove, my mind drifted to I want a cigarette.  It had been nearly 20 year since I’d quit, but on days like this, it always snuck in there.  Instead, I grabbed a stick of gum.  That’s when my phone started chiming, the bluetooth automatically muting the radio I had been enjoying.  Caller ID said it was Gregg, my exhusband.  

“Driving” I simply said to let him know that he didn’t exactly have my full attention.

“I just need help navigating a thing at work, Beth,” Gregg claimed, as I hit the turn signal and figured I might as well head to Staples if I was going to have to listen to Gregg.  “It’ll be quick.”

Of course, it wasn’t quick.

After spending a half hour telling Gregg how to deal with his coworker issues in Staples’ parking lot, I sighed heavily.  I’d left Gregg almost a decade ago, yet here I was still.  I reminded myself that keeping Gregg, the father of my kids, employed and functioning was in my kids’ best interest. 

At least sitting in the car had given me time to properly brush out the tangled blond  hair that reached the small of my back and put it in a nice braid instead of my usual fast ponytail.  When I had left the house that morning, making sure my child was neat and presentable had been a much higher priority than making sure my own hair was taken care of.

Fuck, I was tired of always being THE MOM (™).

 

——————————————————————————-

 

I stood staring at the sign that announced, “Buy 2 Get the 3rd FREE.”  My brain just kept going in circles.  On the one hand, obviously it was a good deal on an expensive item that rarely went on sale.  On the other hand, it was only a good deal if I was actually going to use it.  Theoretically of course I would eventually run out of toner again, but could I count on running out of toner again twice before the printer broke or was made obsolete by some unpredictable update.

It was not a momentous decision.  Being wrong either way wasn’t going to break the bank.  Being wrong wouldn’t kill me.  I kept staring at the shelf of boring items and the damned sign.  Standing here undecided was probably costing me more in lost work than if I made the wrong decision about the toner, but I was frozen by the damned decision anyway.

It was an easy decision, it was just that I had run out of decision making energy.

My phone started buzzing in my pocket.  I looked down, it was Linda from the friends of the library.

“Hello?”  I answered it.

**Hi Beth.**  Linda said in a chipper tone.  **What shifts are you available for the booksale fundraiser?”

Kicked out of my funk by the pressure to always be what anyone needed, I signed.  I grabbed a single toner cartridge, because even if buying 3 would save me money, I would have to find some place to store the extra 2 till I needed them.  One was easier, and I had a new decision I needed to make.

“Ok, Which shifts are the hardest to fill?”  I asked as I started heading to the packing materials aisle, since I was also running low on medium sized shipping boxes.  “And are we doing a bake sale again?”

 

——————————————————————————-

 

I sat on the bar stool.  It was finally Friday night.  I’d dropped the kids off at Gregg’s hours ago.  Nothing was actually a dire emergency at my office, there was no school board meeting tonight.  Yeah, there were dishes I should be washing and emails I should be reading, but I decided I needed a break.

I had tried my best to look like the earthy femme I was as opposed to the tired middle aged mom I admittedly also was.  I suspected I’d failed.  I wore comfortable sneakers and mom jeans.  The blouse I had put on hit the right femme tone, but 5 minutes after arriving I’d ended up putting a gray hoodie on over it because the AC was turned up to levels prefered by the dancing gay men who vastly outnumbered us chilly lesbians sitting and sipping drinks hoping someone would gather the courage to make a move.  

At least I had managed to run a brush through my long light colored hair instead of pulling it into a ponytail.  I was beginning to go from blond to white, but I didn’t want to dye it, that would feel like going against the whole earthy vibe.  

“Hi there,” a warm female voice said behind me. I turned to face her as she added the question, “sub or Dom?”

I flushed slightly with embarrassment, that was very far from a typical pick up line.  I suspected that more often than not, that question got her turned down flat.  Yet, I was intrigued.  I turned to her, she was exactly my type.  Just slightly taller than me, dressed with a slightly masc flair.  Her hair was dark and curly, with enough length on top to flop around and cover her ears, but with a high undercut that came all the way to the front buzzed down to a soft velvet.  She was beautiful. 

I almost answered truthfully and confidently with “switch,” because fucking people pleaser that I was of course I was a switch, always ready to be whatever someone else needed, but something caught inside me as I parted my lips, looking at the imposing beauty before me.  I was sick of being the adult responsible for all the shit.  I was sick of everything falling on my shoulders. I was sick of being the maker of decisions.

I hung my head slightly, and shyly looked at my feet.  I coyly tucked my long pale hair behind my ear.

“sub” I said very softly.

 

——————————— 5 Months Later ———————————————

 

“Bye” I said waving at the kids from the open car window, as Janice put the car into gear.

“They will survive without you for a few days.”  Janice insisted as I watched them walk away into their father’s house.

“I know they’ll survive.”  I rolled my eyes at the reminder.  “They’re old enough they’ll feed themselves even if Gregg forgets to, and they know how to call 911.  I just have serious doubts about him getting them to school.”

“It isn’t the end of the world if they are late a few days.”

“I meant get them there at all,” I sighed.  I’d be calling each morning to try to make it happen.  “What did you say to him when you took him aside while I was saying goodbye to the kids?”

“I told him he was an adult and that he could get himself up and out of bed, and that he was not allowed to call unless there was a life threatening emergency.”  Janice informed me.  “He has joint custody, he can sign the paperwork at the ER if one of them needs stitches.”

“Janice, I need to call him or the chances of the kids making it to school plummets to nearly zero.” I grumbled.

“I am not putting up with being woken up every morning at 6:30 on vacation, so you can call an adult to remind him to be a parent.”  Janice insisted.  “He needs to stop acting like you exist to serve him.  I told him there would be consequences if they didn’t make it to school on time without you having to micromanage it.”

“What kind of consequences?”  I asked suspiciously.

“You don’t have to worry about that, do you Beth?”  Janice reached over and patted my knee.  “I’ll think of something.”

I took a breath, preparing to speak, and then had to take a moment to figure out what I was going to say.  My first instinct was to object, to tell her that I knew Gregg better than her and had been handling him for years, and the kids were my responsibility.  I’d rather happily given myself over into her control, but letting her control Gregg felt…  wrong?  but maybe wrong in a really temptingly nice way.  

“I’m sorry for fussing,” I said contritely.  “You’re in charge this week, you get to make all the decisions.”

Janice smiled happily and turned on the radio.  I leaned back and closed my eyes to just enjoy the ride, not being the driver for a change.

 

——————————————————————-

 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” the young man who had carried the heavier pieces of our luggage asked Janice as he started setting bags down.  

I was taking my toiletry case to the bathroom, when I heard Janice say, “No, this won’t do,” to the young man. Then she raised her volume slightly without shouting, “Beth dear, don’t get settled in.  We’ll be changing rooms.”

“Huhh?” I turned from my task.

“I booked an ocean view,” she said authoritatively to the young man, then went to the window and gestured across it, “that looks like a parking lot.”

“You can see the ocean in the corner, just passed the parking lot.”  The young man said nervously; Janice simply pinned him with the most scathing look ever.  “We can go down to the front desk and see what can be done.”  

The young man sighed, and started picking up the bags he’d been setting down.  I looked at the window, Janice was right that it just barely counted as an ocean view, I couldn’t even make out the gray waves that I knew were breaking against the shore.

I would have just lived with it if it were just me.  The idea of going and dealing with changing it would not have felt like it was worth the energy, but Janice was dealing with it, Janice was putting in that energy.  All I had to do was follow.  

 

——————————————————————————-

 

We had brunch on the boardwalk, the next morning.  Then we walked the full length from the convention center to the carousel house, mostly window shopping as the wind blew in off the ocean.  Finally we’d ventured down onto the sand and stood by the edge of the surf, avoiding the frigid water of the Atlantic that wouldn’t be reasonable to swim in for a couple of more months.  As we stood, enjoying the sound of the waves breaking and the feel of the mist in the air.

When we had headed back to our hotel room, my long loose hair was a tangled mess.  

I walked out of the bathroom, trying to gently untangle the hair that reached my waist.  When I had been a little girl, it had been a pale platinum blond, it had darkened to a sandy blond as I got older, but then I has started to get white hairs that made the hair look lighter again.  In the moment, the long bright hair was going to take quite a bit of patience to untangle without pulling half of it out.  

Janice was looking at the laptop, her back to the view she’d insisted we needed.  her lips were pursed as she shut the device.  Then she looked at me and sighed.

“I need to make a phone call before we head out for the grown up toy shop.”  Janice said.  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s going to  take me a while to untangle this anyway,” I let her know I was in no hurry. “The wind and salty mist really did a number on it.”

“Hmmm, it is rather a mess isn’t it.” Janice observed as she walked towards me and stroked her hand down my head.  “Do you often find yourself having to spend so much time on it?”

“Meh, a bit of time.  It is just one of the many tasks of my day, they all take time so I guess I don’t think too much about how much this one takes.” I chuckled, not thinking about where the conversation might be heading.  “Usually not this much though, I should have put it up, but I do that so often just to get it out of my way.”

“Does it get in your way a lot?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” I said absentmindedly as I continued to work out the tangles.  “I guess just when I’m busy.”

“When are you not busy my darling?” Janice asked a bit pointedly.

“Today. Today was a not busy day,”  I pointed out.  “And that’s why I wore it down today.”  

“With somewhat painful results.” Janice had taken on a speculative tone as she lifted up one of the less tangled locks and twirled it.  “Gregg is rather fond of this isn’t he?”

“What makes you say that?”  I asked, pausing my detangling efforts, suddenly a little uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Oh I have noticed the way Gregg looks at you.” Janice informed me.  “Sometimes he even starts to reach out to stroke it before he remembers himself.”

“He did play with it when we were together,” I admitted.  “He used to bury his hands in it when we had sex.  I definitely think bragging about having a blond wife was a bit of an ego thing for him.  I suspect he still has pictures of me on his desk at work.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Janice chuckled, and led me by my hand over to the window, taking the hairbrush from me when we got there.  Then she purred in my ear.  “Slight change of plans.  Just enjoy the view while I take care of everything.  I have changed my mind, I am making two phone calls.  You need to be very quiet while I’m on the phone even if you feel like you should say something, don’t because I’m in charge, I’m making the decisions, I’m going to take care of everything.  Understood?”

“Yes Janice.”  I agree rather nervously.

“Good girl.”  Janice praised me.  “When I am done, I’m going to take you for a wonderful surprise before the grown up toy shop.”

I watched her very faint reflection in the window as she dialed the phone.   When she was done, she put in her blue tooth earphone and began brushing my hair.  She wasn’t being quite as gentle as I would be.  It was hard to not complain.

“Hello Gregg.”  Janice said in a very chilling tone while she continued to stroke the brush through my hair.  “I checked the attendance record on the parent portal…………I have the login because I promised Beth that I would keep an eye on things so she could just relax and enjoy her vacation…………….Yes, I did see that they were in school, but they were both marked tardy………They weren’t just slightly late, I can see how many classes they each missed. Dropping them off in the afternoon when it’s convenient for you hardly counts as getting them to school………..Do you not think it’s hard for Beth to get them out each day too?  Beth does it day after day, week after week.  How many years has Beth been doing it on her own?…………I’m pretty sure that even when she was married to you, she got the kids out each morning on her own………..Well, tomorrow you will do better……………Oh Gregg really, there is going to be a consequence for today, it’s going to be a relatively small one, but there will be one.  You will get to see it in an hour or two.……………Yes, it is possible for me to punish you from this distance, I have Beth.………….Gregg, you need to stop calling Beth your wife.  She is your ex-wife………………I’m not going to hurt her.  It’s actually going to be a little bit of a treat for Beth, a little something that will make her mornings easier, but I don’t think you are going to like it………..Goodbye Gregg, I will be checking the attendance again tomorrow, and they need to be on time or there will be consequences again tomorrow.”

Janice hung up.  I swallowed, gathering the courage to say something.  A chill had fallen over me as I had watched the waves while Janice had talked to Gregg.

“Janice, what are you planning?”  I asked embarrassed by how scared I was feeling.

“It’s a surprise,”  she reminded me.  “I meant it when I said that I wasn’t going to hurt you, I love you and would never hurt you.  It’s just a little something that will make your mornings easier and less painful, the fact that Gregg will hate it is just a little bonus.  Now stop fussing while I look something up and make another phone call.”

“Janice, I don’t want…” I began because I had a sinking feeling I knew what she was planning.

“Shhhhhh,” she put her long finger to my lips.  “No fussing.  I know it’s hard to let go of the control, but trust me to make good decisions for you.”

I nodded agreement nervously as I pulled the smoothed out hair in front of my shoulder to look at.  Maybe I was wrong about what she planned.  Maybe she was right about what I needed.

“Now here,” she said as she handed the hairbrush back to me.  “Go to the bathroom and pull your hair back into a ponytail while I make that other phone call.”

 

———————————————————————————

 

When we had left the hotel, we had turned in the opposite direction from the beach and headed into town.  Janice of course hadn’t told me where we were going, though I had been suspicious. 

My stomach clenched as I looked at the store front Janice was reaching for the door of.  My fear had been that she planned to take me to a hair salon.  This was way worse.

“Janice, I can’t go into a barbershop.” I sputtered out as I stood frozen.

“Why ever not?”  She asked peering into the place, “I called and they said it was quiet and they could take you right away.”

“Barbershops are for men.”  I explained miserably.

“This town is a gay haven.” Janice pointed out.  “They aren’t hung up about such things here.”

Janice pulled the door open, and held it looking at me with the obvious expectation that I should walk through the door.  I know she kept telling me this was a treat, a reward, a good surprise, but I didn’t really want it.  She’d said it was only a punishment for Gregg, but I was the one who would have to live with it.

“What if I’m hung up about such things?” I pleaded.

“Then just think of this as a little adventure.”  Janice smiled.  “I know it’s scary and you wouldn’t have done this yourself, but that’s the whole point of this isn’t it.  Letting me take control means we do things you probably wouldn’t have thought of.  Now it’s time to just trust me.”

I swallowed, nodded, and walked through the door.  Accepting the gift from Janice I wasn’t sure I actually wanted.  Accepting the gift of letting her make the hard decision to sacrifice my current beautiful long hairstyle for an unspecified new one that would take less time on hectic mornings.  Accept the gift of her handling Gregg for me even if the punishment she was doling out to him meant I had to change.

 

————————————————————————

 

“So, what are we doing?” The barber asked.

I sat nervously in the big chair, my feet just barely reaching the footrest, as I undid the elastic holding my long hair back in a ponytail.  Taking it out was more tricky than usual, since the saltiness was making the hair cling to itself and the elastic.

Janice and the barber stood close to each other behind the chair.  The barber was a slender woman, probably in her early 40s.  Surprisingly for a barber, her light brown hair was long, hanging nearly to her tailbone.  It was just the three of us in the shop, it being an off season weekday early afternoon.

The shop itself was a hipster version of an old fashioned barbershop.  There were exposed brick walls, dark wood floor, framed vintage cigar and whisky advertisements, and the upholstery was artificially distressed leather.  The layout was more like a salon, the barberchairs weren’t perfectly lined up across from a waiting bench or line of chairs, but instead arranged in a U, and in the center there was a comfortable waiting area with a couch, a pair of wingback chairs, an oriental rug, and a coffee table.

“Her hair was getting so tangled with the wind and salt mist, today it just made us think about how much easier her day would be without having to detangle it.”  Janice simply spoke to the barber for me.  She’d also picked a picture out, that she hadn’t even shown me, never mind discussed with me.  “Even when she isn’t by the shore with the wind and the salty air, she pulls it back in a ponytail most of the time because it is just such a nuisance to deal with.  Is this short enough to make her mornings when she has a million things to do easy.”

“Definitely short enough.” The barber affirmed, which I found a little terrifying.  “It will be so much quicker to wash and style.  You’ll love having that time back.”

I gave a half hearted nod.  I looked at the barber’s own hair, which was a rather similar length to mine and wondered if she thought it was so great to save a few minutes in the morning, why didn’t she cut her own hair off?  I supposed, maybe she didn’t have hectic mornings though.

“And it will lay nicely without having to fuss with lots of styling products?”  She asked, as she pointed at something.   “In this view, it looks kind of messy.  It’s cute that way, but not really what you want as an everyday look.”

“The messy look is the one that takes more effort and product actually.”  The barber assured us. “Too get the texture for the messy look, you’d use a bit of wax or gel and ruff it up.  Just washed and combed, it will lay softly against the head.  More like this view, a simple clean neat look.  Although, if you hang out on the beach, the salt will act like product and you can probably get that messy look.  Basically the short version of beachy waves.”

“I guess we can enjoy that while we’re here on vacation,” Janice smiled at me, and stroked down my doomed long hair.  “Talking about salt, her hair is rather salty at the moment.”

“Yeah , it’s going to be really hard to work with right now.  I’m not sure you could get a comb through it.” I agreed, thinking maybe my hair had just gotten a stay of execution.  “Maybe we should come back another time when it’s clean and conditioned.”

“Don’t worry,” the barber chuckled, “we have a wash station even though this is a barber shop not a salon.”

“Having your hair washed is always nice and relaxing isn’t it, so that should help with this feeling like a treat, instead of just an errand.”  Janice smiled at me, then went back to talking to the barber.  “When you cut it, making sure it’s easy to deal with on a day to day basis is the main goal.  We have a secondary goal of annoying her exhusband, but it’s more important that she can get out the door in the morning looking like a professional business woman nice and easily.  No more fussing with all this long hair that her exhusband insisted on.”

I looked at Janice as she once again stroked down my head.  She obviously was actually thinking about making my life easy, but I couldn’t help but wonder how much jealousy was playing a part in this.  She hadn’t spent much time with Gregg, but in the time she did, she would glare at him every time he got close to me.

“I can cut it so that it’s pretty much completely wash and go, but still professional looking.”  The barber continued to assure us, then put her hands on my shoulders, and asked.  “Ready?”

I wanted to ask ready for what, since I still hadn’t seen the actual style Janice had chosen, just gathered it was short from the conversation.  Instead of asking though, I just nodded, and hoped it wasn’t going to be too short.  I just hoped Janice hadn’t insisted on keeping it a surprise because she knew I’d say no if I saw the plan.  I doubted it was going to be something I would have actually agreed to because it would make my life easier.  I’d been thinking of taking the length up a few inches to around the bottom of my rib cage, because those last 6 or 7 inches were the hardest to comb.  I’d mentioned the thought to Janice once or twice, so it was a possibility that was all that was going to happen, but I also doubted it.  I had a feeling it was going to be at least up to my shoulders, and from the way the barber had said “definitely short enough.” Also since this was also functioning as a punishment for Gregg, it had to be drastic enough he would notice.  I feared I was going to be leaving here with a short bob, which definitely counted as something I would say no to if asked directly.

“Hang on.” Janice stated, and raised her phone. “I want to send Gregg a before picture.  The barber chair should be a good clue to what is about to happen.  Looking nervous is fine.”

“Ok,” the barber took over once Janice had taken the picture and started shaking out a cape lightly.  “I just want to do one thing before we go and wash out the salt.”

She swung the black fabric over my clothing, but only pulled it lightly closed behind me, not fastening it.  She took a very large pair of scissors from the counter in front of me.  I swallowed, nervous about what she was about to do as she walked back behind me, the light glinting off the long silver blades.

She simply gathered all of my long hair into her fist, holding it in a ponytail.  She opened the blades, and raised them.  They disappeared behind my back, leaving me to guess where they were about to cut.

Shhhrrrunch-shhhhhrunch-schrrrrunch

The blades crunched slowly through the bundle above her hand.  I felt the cold metal just above the top of the loose cape. removing everything below my shoulders.  My jaw clenched, making my molars hurt.  I tried to relax and forget what was happening by closing my eyes, but I couldn’t close my ears that were filled with the sound of the blades sawing through my hair, or stop feeling the blade against my neck.

Shhhhhnap

The blades closed.  I watched the barber open her hand, letting the bundle of long hair fall to the floor.  It landed with a soft pishhhh.

I looked at the mirror, turning my head back and forth, my hair swung freely, the ends just barely brushing my shoulders.  I turned and looked over my shoulder at Janice, who had taken a seat in the nearby waiting area.  She gave me a reassuring smile as she got up and started walking towards the chair as the barber took the loose cape off me.  

“Ok, that will be much easier to wash now,” the barber told me cheerfully.  “Let’s go to the sink.”

I just nodded feeling a bit numb, and got up to follow.

“It’ll look great,” Janice assured me as I passed by her taking a picture of the discarded hank of hair that lay on the floor, I assumed to torture Gregg with.

At the sink, the barber spread a towel over my shoulders and instructed me to lean back, as she guided my head down into the sink.  It wasn’t really much different from going to my regular salon, where I would have an inch of split-ends trimmed off every 3 or 4 months and a few gentle layers added.  Of course not only were all the split-ends suddenly gone, so were all the soft layers.

“How’s the temperature?” The barber asked as the warm water began to run through my hair and against my scalp.

“It’s good,” I said, as I just closed my eyes to relax.  Though I was still not so sure about the haircut, I had always enjoyed the feeling of having my hair washed, like most people do.  So I tried to just stay in the moment as the salty hair was lathered.  The barber’s strong finger working in tiny circles against my scalp.

Of course, all too soon, the conditioner was being rinsed out, and the barber was wrapping a towel around my head.  I sighed, and followed her back to the big dark brown leather barber chair.  I climbed back into it, sitting nervously, waiting to find out how much more of my hair was about to be cut off.  

I swallowed nervously, hoping at this point we were pretty close to the finished length.  Janice had already had her opportunity to torture Gregg with photos of me sitting in the barber chair, and the picture of over a foot of hair on the floor. 

The barber started wrapping a piece of thin soft paper around my neck, which so far was one of the most noticeable differences besides decor between the barber shop and salon experience.  She then swung the nylon satin cape over me, this time pulling it more carefully over my shoulders and fastening it tightly around my neck, then fussing with the paper.

There was an ease to it as she pulled the towel down off my head.  There was no need to carefully avoid pulling the very long hair.  The barber, then took a fresh comb out, and began the task of detangling the wet hair that was resting on my neck.

“That was fast,” I commented, when the barber was able to move on from detangling to sectioning after just a couple of minutes. 

“Just wait till it’s done.” The barber smiled at me through the mirror as she clipped most of my hair forward, leaving just the small section between my hairline and half way up my nape hanging down still.  “You’ll soon forget what tangles were.”

I nervously looked at Janice who continued to smile at me reassuringly.  When I looked back at the mirror, the barber was suddenly holding shears at the ready once again, this time a smaller pair.  Before she started cutting, she tilted my head down.

As I stared at the satiny fabric covering my lap, I felt the barber lift the hair up from my hairline with the comb.  Then I heard the snipping I couldn’t see begin, the sound making it clear she was cutting up against the comb.

Shhhlick, shnip, shnip, click, shhhnip-click, shnap

The hair at first just fell wet and heavy against my neck, completely out of sight, leaving me little clue how short it was being cut.  The one thing I could tell was that it felt like more than just a dusting.  As she worked out from the center though, hair began to fall on my shoulder, and eventually slide from there to my lap.

I stared at the damp lock laying in my lap, my jaw tightly clenched.  It was a few inches long, telling me there had to be very little hair left behind on my head.  I felt the comb lift up the hair that rested on my neck right behind my ear, and realized how little hair I felt on my neck.  I was pretty sure I was losing all the hair that hung below my hairline.  I began imagining myself with a short bob, and tried to come to terms with the image.

When I could no longer feel any of the shoulder length wet locks plastered to the back of my neck, and there were a few more locks in the lap I stared down at, the barber began to snip a curving line just above my natural hairline.  I sat nervously, listening to the snipping, wondering when it would stop, wondering how much hair would be left when it stopped.

The barber suddenly paused, and undid one of the clips, and combed shoulder length hair down over my neck.  She repeated the process on the other side.  When the clips were back, and she readjusted the tilt of my head again, All the hair from my nape was combed down and lay wet and heavy over the surprisingly bare feeling lower part of the nape, plus my neck.

I waited for her to start cutting a straight line across the hair right at my neck line, similar to the way that my hair dress usually would do much much lower down.  To my surprise, I felt the hair combed up before the snipping started again against the comb again.  

Shnup, shhhnip, click, shhhhhlick, shhhhnip

I wasn’t feeling the scissors cutting a straight line.  The wet hair that was falling to my neck and shoulders felt heavier than the hair from the previous section.  Then a lock slid forward over my shoulder into my lap, and I could confirm what I was feeling, that more hair was being cut off.

I sat there, feeling dejected, this wasn’t going to be a bob.  The barber was obviously still cutting the hair off in short layers, not a line.  This was going to be a pixie or crop.  Well, I supposed an undercut bob was still possible, but the earlier conversation about ruffing it up with product fit better to a crop or pixie.  

I was just beginning to get used to the idea that my hair was gong to be cut in a style that could look like a man’s while staring at the growing pile of longer and longer locks in my lap when the barber paused again.   She undid the clips, and tilted my head up so I was facing the mirror.

I watched in the mirror as the barber parted my hair from my temple all the way to the  back of my head, then did the same on the other side.  She left a thin curtain of the pale shoulder length hair hanging down all around my head, covering my ears, and clipped the hair on the top of my head up and out of the way.

I watched as the barber lifted the hair above my left ear up with her comb.  She held the hair up a few inches away from my scalp.  I watched the open scissors approach the gap between the comb and my head.  She positioned the blades just an inch or two from my ear.

Ssshhhhhhhhhh-click

The half foot long lock dangled half hanging down from either side of my comb.  The barber held the comb out slightly, turned it over and gave it a gentle shake, letting the wet hair fall to the floor.  Left behind, the hair just barely covered the top of my ear.

“Ooooo, are you going to do that again?”  Janice asked with just a bit of excitement.  “Can you hold the hair in the comb for just long enough for me to get a photo to send to Gregg?  Can you imagine how he’ll feel when he sees it?”

“Mildly dizzy?” I guessed softly, since that was how I felt.

“I’m going to do that 4 or 5 more times.” The barber informed my way to eager to torture my exhusband girlfriend.  “Just hang on.”

The barber combed up the hair behind my ear, and held it out the same way.  She once again raised the scissors to the space between the comb and my head and sliced.  This time though, she held the comb out for Janice to get the perfect photo angle.  

“Has Gregg responded to any of the pictures?” I asked as the barber shook the lock of hair to the floor.

“Oh yeah, want me to read them?” Janice offered with delight.

“I guess,” I said weakly as the barber combed up more to be sliced away.

“The first responce was ‘What the fuck are you doing to my wife?’  So I reminded him ‘Beth is your exwife, not you wife.’  Then I told him I was just treating you to a nice haircut that you would enjoy even if he wouldn’t.  Then he claimed you looked unhappy, to which I responded that you just looked nervous.”  Janice sighed slightly, and looked at me.  “You still look a bit nervous, but trust me, you are going to love this and look adorable.  And how great is it going to be not looking like Gregg’s wife anymore?”

I looked away from Janice and at my reflection just as the barber closed the shears slicing away the hair that had hung over my right ear.  She was right, I hadn’t changed my style much at all when I left Gregg.  I’d simply had so many higher priorities than reinventing myself physically.  It had been hard enough accepting I was gay, leaving the church, finding out which of my friends could adjust and which would reject me.  I watched my very changed image half smile.

“I am still nervous about this,” I admitted, as I watched the barber comb the short hair around my ear up and start snipping at it against the comb.  “but it really is going to be good to not look the exact same way I did for the entire time I was married.  I think that’s something I will enjoy more than saving 10 minutes each morning.”

Janice smiled warmly, and repeated all the reassuring things again.  I listened and tried to take them to heart as I watched my hair reduced to no longer covering my ear at all.  I tried to ignore my fear that I was going to look like a grandma with such a short practical haircut, or worse, look like a grandpa when I wore comfortable jeans and hoodies.

I watched the barber snip my soft wispy sideburns short, before she let the hair on the top of my head down.  Though the hair that flopped down was nowhere near as long as it had been when I first sat in the big barber chair, it was long compared to the rest of the hair on my head.

The barber swiftly gathered up the shoulder length locks though, and combed them straight up into her free hand. she held the locks aloft, and opened the scissors.

Shhhhhhhhhhniiiiiiip

Hair that barely reached my ears flopped back down on top of my head, and the barber dropped the bundle of hair to the floor.  She then combed the floppy locks on the top of my head back.

She didn’t leave me long to get used to the new length though, she just started combing a lock at the crown of my head up into her finger and clamped the strands between them.  She then sliced another couple of inches off of the lock. leaving me just a couple of inches.  With the comb, she flicked away the severed lock, and combed the lock in front of the shortened hair up and once again clamped it between 

I sat watching the hair on the top of my head being gradually cropped.   When she Got to the front, she combed the front of my hair up, and sliced it off as she had all the way from the back.  This time, the locks fell before my eyes.  Then she combed the hair forward and down onto my forehead, and began to snip upwards into it, shaping the bangs against my face.  I closed my eyes, to keep the snippets from getting in them.

Though the barber was still working away, making little adjustments, the very short length seemed to be pretty much established.  I sat there, trying to sort through my complicatedly mixed feelings.  

There was a certain sadness about the hair I had lost.  It had been impressively long and beautiful.  I’d received compliments on it very regularly for nearly my whole life.  It had always made me feel pretty, fitting my earthy femme style.  It had felt so historic, feeling like it was right when I dragged the kids to the Ren Faire.   And of course, I could play with it, do fancy braids and updos.  

I would never have asked for this.  Never agreed to this if we’d had a real discussion, instead of just being told to trust.  I had a bunch of fancy accessories for the long hair now scattered on the floor, I didn’t know if any of them would even vaguely work without my long hair.  I knew for sure, several were completely useless.

There was something to be said for this haircut though.  It was obviously going to be nothing to comb it out.  As the barber kept shaping the way the sides met the top, the cropped bristles of hair just flowed through the teeth of the comb, never snarling, or even putting up an ounce of resistance.  Janice was right that this was going to make my day easier.  I would probably even get away with not combing it at all sometimes.

It also just felt kind of freeing.  There was something liberating about abandoning being what Gregg thought of as pretty.  Abandoning nearly the whole male gaze.  

Obviously, Janice seemed to think I was still going to be pretty, and kept telling me.  Though at that particular moment, she was discussing styling with the barber, settling on just drying it how it wanted to lay with no product.  She said we would get to see the messy look with the salt mist anyway.

The barber pulled out the hairdryer.  She simply ruffled then smoothed my hair as she blew the warm air over the simple crop.  It was almost instantly dry.

I figured that the whole thing was over, except maybe a quick detail here and there, but then the barber did something terrifying, and took the larger of the 2 clippers off a charging stand.   I glanced over at Janice who gave me a reassuring smile, clippers were obviosly a reasonable option for whatever style she had chosen for me.  Part of me wanted to say something, but I bit my tongue, and just sat there as the barber turned them on.

buzzzzzzzzzzzzz-Zwoop

The barber had me again looking at my lap as she ran the clippers against the comb, taking the hair even shorter.  The hair that fell to my naked neck felt just like dust.  At the bottom near my neck line, the blades even letf the comb and cut directly against my skin.

When she let my head up, I got to watch her carve away any hair that came even close to my ears with the humming blades.  The blades occasionally touched my ears sending vibrations through the cartilage.   A fine sprinkling of pale hair fell to my shoulders and slid down the cape getting caught in the wrinkles of fabric down my chest.

The clippers were leaving the hair on the sides of my head, with a distinct crispness I wasn’t really loving.  In the mirror I could see my forehead wrinkle under the bangs that didn’t cover about half of it.  She carved my side burns into points, and left a slight ridge between the sides and the top.

When the barber fainally turned off the humming clippers and put them down,  I felt the muscles in my jaw I had forgetten were clenched finally relax.  I was more just curious when she picked up the toothy thinning shears than concerned.  Though my hairstylist never used them on my long hair, I’d seen them used and knew that they didn’t effect length.  The stylist combed the short hair on the crown of my head up.

sshhChomp, chomp, chomp

After closing the blades around the lock three times, she combed out a surprising volume of pale fluff that fell to my shoulders.  She ignored my discomfort at the volume, and just kept working systematically forward. obviously trying to only go over each section once.  

When she had finished her systematic once over on the top though, she didn’t put the thinning shears down though, instead changing from working systematically to what seemed more like working by feel.  using them first mostly on the bangs, getting the hair that rested about an inch above my eyebrows to sweep softly across my forehead.  Then she used them to soften the sideburns, eliminating any harsh lines from the pointed shape she had cut them to.   Finally, she started combing up the sides of my head, snipping with the thinning shears right up against the comb, much like how she had started the haircut.  

As she worked, I was relieved to see the ridge between the top and sides begin to soften and disappear.  The sides in general, were losing the crispness that had bothered me after the clippers.  As much as I wished the haircut to be over, I could see that my patience and silence were being rewarded, so I continued to just watch.

When the barber switched from the thining shears to the trimmer, I knew it was finally over.  I contemplated the new me as the barber shaved a new higher hairine above my neck.  unfastening the cape as she went, and stroking the little blades that made a high pitched buzz down my neck.  Finally, she took the cape all the way off, spilling the long blond locks that used to be mine to the floor where the rest of my former crowning glory was scattered.

Janice got up and came to stand next to me, as the barber held up a hand mirror behind me, showing me the back of my rather bare head.  I raised my hand to feel the short pelt.  It wasn’t exactly the same as Janices buzzed undercut, my straight hair giving it a smoother feel.  

“This is perfect,” Janice proclaimed as her hand joined mine stroking the cropped hair.  “I love it, I think Gregg will hate it, and it’s going to make your day quite a bit easier.  Isn’t it?”

I just nodded, not sure how I felt about it.  What she said was true, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit sad about the pretty blond tresses I had lost.  It did feel good when I buried my had in the hair that just barely covered my fingers on the top of my head.

“What is Gregg going to think?” Jenice asked.

“It’s shorter than his.” I stated the simple but slightly painful fact.

“What kind of after picture should we send Gregg?”  Janice speculated looking at me in the mirror, and still stroking the hair that was tapered to a velvet.  “The obvious option would be a photo of you from the front sitting in the chair surrounded by the hair he loved, shed and gone.  No longer there for him to try touching again.  But, I’m not sure he is so blind to not realize you look quite adorable in this crop anyway.  So I thought maybe we should send him just a picture of all the hair on the floor.”

I brushed my hand up against the grain on the back my head, and a memory came to me.  “One time Gregg went to a new salon.  They interpreted his request to just clean it up a little and make it neat a bit drastically, and he ended up with it tapered in the back like this, longer on top though.  He completely hated it and complained constantly till it grew out to his usual collar length.”

I took a breath and looked at Janice and got to the point.  “He is really going to hate this.  He’s just a hair guy.  Take the picture from the back, centered on the taper,  Frame it wide enough to include the hair all over the floor, and my reflction in the mirror.”

“You aren’t just beautiful,” Janice praised and gave me a peck on the cheek, “you are brilliant!”

 

—————————————————————-

 

We’d left the car at our hotel so that we could both just relax about drinking.  We’d gone to a club at the other end of the boardwalk in a different hotel than the one we were staying at, and danced till we were sweaty.  Then we’d walked back to our hotel along the boardwalk, stepping down onto the beach briefly.to watch the surf pound, as the sweat chilled us.  My ears, head, and neck, uninsulated for the first time I could remember, felt the biting wind especially.

On top of being chilled, coated in dried sweat and salt water mist, and even sand that had snuck into my clothing, there were little bits of prickly hair snippets that had not been caught by the barber’s cape or brushed off when she had dusted me.  I was especially noticing it in the folds of my ears.  It was a bit scratchy and itchy.

I desperately wanted a warm shower.  Janice seemed to have the same idea as she shed her clothing also and followed me into the bathroom.  It was a large shower with a built-in tiled bench, so perfect for sharing.  I smiled at Janice’s naked body pressed against mine as I adjusted the warm water.

We often showered together.  It was the place where I had discovered Janice wasn’t actually taller than me, she just always wore shoes with more of a heel than I did.  Even her slippers.  Naked and barefoot, we were on the same level.

“Why, hello there.” I said over my shoulder trying to sound sultry.

“Hi,” Janice said back, as she wrapped her arms around my torso.  “Looking forward to finding out how much easier it is to wash your hair.  Think about how much you’ll save on shampoo.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘looking forward to.’”  I sighed as the water poured over our bodies, and I picked up my expensive shampoo which was one of the few things I splurged on for myself.  “I guess a bit curious.  I don’t think it’s really going to save much money.”

I squeezed a small amount into my hand, as I always did.  I heard people talk about using too much shampoo after getting their long hair cut short, and it always made me suspect they were using too much shampoo and over washing the ends.  I’ll admit I had too when I was young, but I’d eventually learned to use the shampoo primarily to wash my scalp and the hair close to it, and mostly just rinse the ends, only really washing them if I had managed to get something in my hair.

Besides, any savings I got on shampoo was going to be spent on more frequent trims.  This was going to take really frequent maintenance, unless I just let it grow, which was a definite possibility.  

I began lathering my scalp, letting the suds get into my ears more than I normally would in hopes of dislodging the snippets that hid there.  It felt different, not having to push my fingertips past lots of tangling hair, the short tufts and bristles were little obstacle.  Then I felt extra fingers massaging the lather into my scalp.  

“Mmmmm, this feels so good doesn’t it?” Janice commented.

“I guess,” I conceded with a shrug as I bent forward to let the shampoo and sweat and salt and bits of hair rinse away under the warm flowing water.  “I felt good when it was long too. And the water would just kind of drag through the long ends, which I liked.”

I reached for the conditioner, this I was probably going to need less of, since it was mostly for the ends.  I wasn’t sure if I really needed it at all, but figured it would make the tiny quantity of hair a little smoother.  I squeezed out a quarter of the quantity I usually started with, started because I would get more for spots that still felt rough in the long hair I used to have, I didn’t think I would need to do that anymore.  I distributed it between my hands, and began smoothing it over the surface of the crop.

“You know, you could switch to a two-in-one.”  Janice pointed out as she stroked her hand over my neck.  “That would save time and money.”

“Please stop trying to convince me that you didn’t take me to get all my hair cut off mostly because you were jealous of Gregg.” I finally asserted.  “You don’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“I’m sorry.”  Janice simply stated quietly, and nuzzled up resting her head on the back of my shoulder, where her hair hung down to my front.

She hadn’t said why she was sorry, just that she was.  I reached up, and ran my hand through the damp curls, and smiled.  They were longer than my hair now, and they tangled around my fingers.

“That barbershop is open tomorrow right?” I asked rhetorically as I stroked the dark curls.  “Perhaps we should make this a little easier to manage too.”

Janice raised her head, and looked at me with alarm.