The Biggest Change

This story is about a big change for me, one of the biggest of my life. It started one night as Marcus and I settled into bed. I’d just gotten the girls to sleep, and was ready to knock-out, but as usual the hubby and I had some private catching up to do.

“You haven’t said anything about my haircut,” he noted in his natural drawl as I pulled down my booster club t-shirt, so it wouldn’t ride up in my sleep.

“Oh, sorry hon,” I replied, “You get the same haircut every couple weeks. I think it looks good. I like your hair short like that.”

And I did. Always, he got a crewcut with a high fade. I ran my hand along the fuzz on the back of his head and kissed his forehead, where hair that used to hang over it stood up crisply. I added, “You know, I’m getting my hair done tomorrow, too.”

“Really?” His blue eyes went wide. “What are you going to do?”

“The same as usual,” I replied. Since a teen, I’d worn my hair in layers to my shoulders, teased and sprayed with blonde highlights. It was a flattering style for me, at five foot four and a size sixteen. I’d always been more curvy than chubby, and a big, wide hairstyle seemed to make that apparent.

Marcus frowned at my answer, which confused me. So I offered, “I always thought you liked my hair. Don’t you?”

He sighed. “Of course, I think you’re beautiful no matter what. But I got this crazy idea today, and it started to really turn me on.”

I raised an eyebrow, too tired to indulge in whatever he had in mind. For the sake of our honest relationship I asked. “What was your crazy idea?”

He smiled big. “Why don’t you get your haircut like mine?”

I, who though him joking, retorted, “Yeah. That sounds good. I could stand to have one less thing to worry about.”

He grabbed my shoulder and kissed my neck, as if he were super aroused. He breathed, “Wow. So you’ll do it?”

That’s when I noticed he wasn’t kidding. But I wasn’t about to jump into such a crazy change. “You know what?” I gripped his hand and kissed his cheek. “Maybe next time. I’ll have to think about it.”

“All right. But you know, it’s just hair. It grows back. Why not try it out, even just once, for me? If you do, I’ll leave the girls at my mom’s overnight, and take us out to Western Steer.”

I leaned back and breathed, unsure how to react to this sudden fixation. Then I figured it out. “Why don’t you do all that stuff anyway, and just for being such a gentleman, I’ll think about the haircut.”

“All right,” he muttered, seemingly appeased even if he didn’t believe me.

But I wanted him to believe me, and this sudden change would need some consideration, perhaps from the both of us. I noted. “You know, no healthy woman in our town has ever had hair so short. I don’t think I want to stand out so much, to be known as that woman with the crazy short hair.”

“I understand,” Marcus said, though I knew how he was. If he wanted something, then that was that. So he continued, “But it’s just hair. It only takes one time of seeing each other for them to get used to it.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. We were from a small town in Kentucky where everyone knew each other. Marcus and I met in Jr. High school, and he’d always worn his hair the same, as did most of us. And would the girls be embarrassed of their mom, getting a crazy short hair cut? They’d get over it. So would everyone, once they learn I’m the same person I’d always been. But I was definitely not going to make this decision by tomorrow. No. But I wondered. “How short do they cut your hair on top?”

“About 3/8 of an inch.” Marcus replied, smiling with his bedroom eyes. “You’re thinking about it?”

“I’ll think about it.” I affirmed, at least that much. As Marcus pulled me in for a kiss goodnight, I noticed he had a huge boner, bigger than I’d felt in months.

So I let him take a ride on me, on the terms that we both got our cookie.

After work at the bank, I stopped at home to change into my date dress, a floral number with thin straps that showed half my back. I thought it looked especially good whenever my hair was cut above my shoulders again, showing their freckles. I checked myself in the mirror, wishing I could have slept more last night. Oh well, neither did Marcus. Piling earrings and necklace into my purse, I figured I’d leave Britney to help with my make-up, since I typically washed my hair in her sink before she did her thing. So I gunned my explorer to her house in the woods, with Tanya Tucker at full volume. I had a full hour until dinner with Marcus.

Since my cousin Britney got her license, she did hair at her house, for all our friends and cousins. All of us wore a similar variation of the same style. Britney was the thin cousin, though, the one who’d been a cheerleader, whom all the boys crushed on. So we all took her fashion advice. I knew I could count on her to talk me out of a buzzed crew cut.

She let me into her styling room, out by the garage. Next to the mirror, were taped pictures of her kids and clients, and clients’ kids. There was also a picture of Marcus and I at our wedding. He’d gotten his cut freshened that day, and Britney had given me a sweet up-do. Her styling chair was brown leather, and the room smelled strongly of hair bleach.

“You look nice.” She remarked, “Date tonight?”

“Don’t you know it.” I said, with a coy smile, helping myself to a seat at her station.

“Well, what’s the occasion? And. Don’t you want to wash your hair first?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.” I chuckled, admittedly distracted by the question of whether or not I’d tell Britney about Marcus’s odd request. But thoughts of it had been on the forefront of everything.

“The occasion,” I started, turning on her sink, then spoke louder as I let my hair run through the water. “The occasion is, I told Marcus I’d think about a different haircut, which he says he really wants me to get.”

“Really?” She perked, moving to lather my hair. “What does he want?”

“Well. I expect him to change his mind, but he said he wants me to get my hair cut just like his.” I answered, and knowing Marcus, he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Britney burst out laughing. “The crew cut? He wants you to have no hair?”

“Yeah. I guess so. So I told him I’d think about it, and see how much sweetness I can get out of him in return.” I admitted, wringing the conditioner from my hair. It had always been so thick. “Honestly,” I continued, before Britney had the chance to laugh again, “I always thought I was too chubby for short hair.”

“No, no,” Britney argued, “You have the sensual curves men want. And if you want no hair, I can make you look good. I can make you look good with anything.”

Sometimes she went too thin when I let her do my eyebrows, and I didn’t exactly believe she could make me look good with anything. “Funny,” I remarked, helping myself to her chair again. “I whole-heartedly expected you to talk me out of a crazy short haircut. Don’t you want to do what you usually do?”

Britney took her time draping the cape over me, and pulling combing my blond-streaked hair from under it.

“Well?” I pressed, annoyed at her coy lack of response.

She continued combing and clipped up the top section of my hair, all above my ears. “You and I both know Marcus,” she noted, “We have for a long time. We know once he decided he wants something, he doesn’t give up until he gets it. Besides, he’s been good to you and the kids. Isn’t it natural for a woman to wear her hair the way her man likes it?”

“Wait.” My heart sunk. “You think I should get a crew cut? I told him I’d think about it, and maybe next time. You know he gets it cut to 3/8 of an inch on top?”

“Yup,” was Britney’s tight-lipped responsed. “I know it’s a big change, and I know you wouldn’t be able to make this decision on your own. So I’m just gonna do it.”

Do what? I screamed in my mind.

“Yup,” she answered, and pulled out a pair of clippers with no guard.

“Fine,” I groaned, a groan of surprising relief. My rollercoaster had made its climb, and now it was time for the rise.

“Ready?” Britney asked with a big smile, turning on the buzzing clippers.

“Sure,” I said with a sigh, closing my eyes. Yes, I could just close my eyes and it would be all over soon.

I felt the hot friction of the clippers, struggling with my hair at first, the thick clumps at the back of my head. As she carved around my ear, removing my sideburns, I felt lucky Britney knew what she was doing, or seemed to. Even if she messed up, how long coud it take to grow 3/8 of an inch of hair? So quickly, my head felt so light.

“So you’re not going to talk to me?” Britney remarked.

“No. Please just make it quick.”

She unclipped the top of my hair, and it fell onto my neck and ears. Soft, light hairs grazed my ears and neck. I heard Britney put a guard on the clippers and turn them on again. As they crunched through the hair at my crown, I again felt relieved. No more blow drying. No more spray. No more expensive hair products. Within minutes, Britney finished reducing the long section of my hair to less than a half inch. As she turned my head, I felt no movement from my hair. It was freeing, and surprisingly wonderful.

“I’m just gonna finish the fade for you,” she said, again removing the guard from her clippers. I felt cool air all over my head, but still couldn’t bring myself to peak, not until it was done.

I felt myself getting turned on by this new me who would emerge from this crazy move, and how excited Marcus would be. Tonight he would have to show his appreciation for this cut, indeed.

Suddenly Britney turned off the clippers and brushed the stray clippings from my face and neck. I waited for her to remove the cap and shake it out before opening my eyes, and wow. I did look almost like a different person. My neck was so long, and my eyes so big. I made a few curious, wincing faces at myself in the mirror. Never before had I considered myself adorable, not until now.

“You like it, don’t you?” Britney implored with a grin.

“Yeah.” I agreed. “It’ll take some getting used to… and I’m not looking forward to all the weird looks I know I’m gonna get.”

“Weird looks? If this is what gets Marcus going, I can only guess all the men are gonna want to check you out.”

I rolled my big brown eyes with a sigh, unable to take my eyes off the woman in the mirror, with her bare, freckled shoulders. “It certainly is bold.”

“Right,” Britney agreed, “Now let’s do your make-up, and I’ll get your picture. Then we’ll see what the kids think.”

So Britney gave me smoky eyes with less mascara than usual, and less blush. She painted my lips red instead of pink, to better match the darker shade of my fresh cut. No more highlights, I guess. I put on my gold chain, hanging just to my collar bone, and ruby earrings that hung to my jaw line from my round little ears. I turned before the mirror, thrilled at the new woman before me. Before the feeling could settle in, Britney called for the kids, Justin and Jamie.

Jamie, the five year old girl with hair just like her moms scrunched up her face at me. “Aunt Sarah. Why did you cut your hair like that?”

“Don’t you like it?” I asked, running my hand through my soft fuzz.

“Honey, don’t be rude.” Her mother scolded in a hushed tone.

“I think it’s awesome,” Justin put in, eyes wide. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure,” I replied, with a wide smile.

Britney pulled out her polaroid. “All right now. I have to get a photo for my wall!”

So I stood with the kids, and we all said cheese for my beautician, who followed up with a closer photo of my back side. “You know, you’re gonna have to get this trimmed every couple weeks,” she reminded.

I replied, “I figured so much. But it’ll be cheaper without the color and all, right?”

“You bet.”

I was early to The Western Steer, since my hair appointment didn’t take nearly as long as usual. After helping myself myself to a packet of wheat crackers from the barrel by the salad bar, I informed the host I was waiting for my husband. I noted the effort with which he kept from staring at me. And I got more looks from more people. But I couldn’t tell if it was from curiosity, disgust, or arousal. I wondered at the possibility that Marcus was joking with me, asking me to get this haircut. What if he ended up hating it?

I guess it was too late to worry about it. I liked my hair like this, more than I thought I ever would. After such a big change, to go even shorter would hardly make a difference. I entertained the thought before I caught another man at the salad bar, looking me over. I wondered if he wished his wife had the same look.

But I quickly grew bored, which grew into anxiety. I had the host seat me, so I could wait for Marcus with more privacy, and a glass of wine. Sipping my chardonnay, I managed to hear Marcus inquire about me to the host, who replied, “You mean the lady with hair like this?”

To which Marcus said he’d peak and see if I was out there. I gave him a wave, and his eyes went wide with delight, a look I’ll never forget. He insisted I order anything I want, and watched me all night, hardly touching his own food. And I took my time, enjoying his amorous attention. That night I felt like I’d found the key to a new level of affection, and I’d never been happier.