I went to the park with a group of five of my yoga students. We were in the middle of our practice when the barber’s line started to form. I’ve always been fascinated with his line. All those willing victims of his waiting for the humiliation that he loved to dole out. Looking at my students, all pampered and spoiled women with expensive hairdos, I had an idea. I told them that we should all join the line as an act of humility. I, of course, would be behind them and duck out as the last one lost her precious locks.
Much to my surprise, none of my ladies objected. They all just grimly gave their consent. We ended the class early and joined the line. It was satisfying to see all five of those women cry as they received their grade zero buzzcuts, though I was disappointed that none of them got the razor.
I also had another surprise that day. A nasty one. By the time that my last student was buzzed, her waist length blonde hair being thrown in the trash, I wasn’t making my escape. No, when it was my turn, I sat down in the chair. With a triumphant smile on his face, the barber caped me.
Running his hands through my curly black hair, which just got to my shoulders, he said, “Look at you. A sheep about to be sheared.”
I inhaled sharply as his guardless clippers plunged down the center of my forehead. It was absolutely brutal how he buzzed me. I got the full military recruit experience. Chin forced to chest as it all came off. As the last curl fell, I thought, my face bright red, finally, it’s over.
He laughed. “No, it’s not over.” Like he could hear my thoughts.
With that, he used the clippers to swipe off my eyebrows, which made my students, all kneeling under a nearby tree laugh.
My humiliation wasn’t over yet. The barber had a broad grin on his face as he lathered me up. I’ve seen photos of the event. He gave a fool’s crown of shaving cream. Then he sweared some over what was left of my eyebrows. And, as my fingers dug into his chair, he used a straight razor to shave me smooth.
Once he cleaned me off, he walked me over to the tree. Practically dragged my limp body over and knelt me down. He then handed one of my newly shorn students a Sharpie and whispered in her ear. With one final wink at me, he went back to his line.
She wrote something on my forehead and then told me to leave, which I did immediately, due to my intense humiliation. I didn’t see it until I got home. Though I’m sure people have taken photos. She had written “Ugly” across my forehead. As I stared into the mirror at my shiny chromedome and eyebrowless face, I really felt it.
Sticking my hand down my soaking wet cunt, I thought, should I go back to the barber or just let my students shave me?