The Ponytail

“Aaaaaaand… done!” I said to myself as I pulled the curler from my long, silky hair ponytail, reaching up with my hand and gently shaking it out to add some volume and make it fall perfectly in place, where the ends rested right at my knees.

I stood back and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked good… no, screw that, I looked GREAT. Standing at 5’6” with a petite body, a pale, flawless complexion, gorgeous blue eyes, and of course, my knee-length, baby blond hair, which was currently being worn in a long ponytail with the slightest curl added to give it some body and style. I was dressed to the nines today in a long-sleeve red shirt tucked into a pair of buttery-soft, skintight leather pants, accessorized with a red Gucci belt that matched my shirt, and high-heeled black leather ankle-boots.

I pulled out my phone and glanced through two pictures before I headed to work. The first was a photo of me and my ex-boyfriend Clyde, which made me grimace. I looked at the photo in great detail, making sure I looked just like I did in the photo now. I glanced at the mirror, then back at the photo, and nodded. I was wearing the same outfit in that photo (which had been Clyde’s favorite outfit), my makeup was done exactly the same, and my hair was in the same style it had been for that photo, so it was as close as I was going to get.

The only thing that was different between that photo and now was the length of my hair. The photo had been taken 2 years ago, when Clyde and I had been dating for nearly 3 years, and in it, my hair barely fell to the top of my butt. I chuckled when I thought that back then, I had even considered THAT long. When Clyde and I had met, my baby blond hair had been much, MUCH shorter, worn in a longish blond pixie cut. When we started dating, Clyde had mentioned how much he loved long hair, and I had decided to give long hair a shot.

So I had spent five years growing it out to the impossibly long, silky, gorgeous mane of hair that it was now. I suppose I should have been thankful for his advice, as my hair had become my trademark, and I received countless compliments on it regularly. It was soft, silky, and simple to style considering how long it was, the mermaid hair every woman dreamed of having, and to be fair, I did grow to love it quite a bit.

I flipped over to the second photo, smiling to myself as I looked at it. The photo in question was there for later… but looking at it made me excited for what was awaiting me in mere hours. I turned off the phone and looked at myself in the mirror and adjusting my ponytail one last time.

“Soon…” I said to no one in particular, “soon.”

I walked into work with a smile on my face and a skip in my step, feeling particularly peppy and perky, even for a Friday. I laughed, smiled, and giggled my way through the day, feeling a sense of excitement rising up in me as the day went on that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Something big was about to happen… and I was the only one who knew it.

All through the day I made sure to walk by Clyde’s office as many times as I could, not bothering to look at him even once as I did so. I never saw his face (which I knew was following my swishing ponytail with wide eyes as it swung beautifully and seductively back and forth like a pendulum of shining silk), but every time I passed his office I was happy to hear him stutter or pause when he was in mid-conversation. Several times I made a point to toss or shake out my long ponytail as I passed his office, and on one occasion I was very satisfied to hear a stack of papers fall to the floor, followed by Clyde’s cursing, as my hair danced around my body with the movement.

As the day went on and I trotted through it happily, my ponytail bounced and shimmered with every step I took, looking even lovelier than it normally did, and that was saying something! It danced around me beautifully as I walked, glistened and shined in the office lights as I sat, and fluttered gently around my head as I laughed. It was gorgeous, and as usual, it drew many compliments from my coworkers and my clients. My hair had always been gorgeous, but today it seemed to have a life of its own, and managed to look more beautiful than I had ever seen it. It was the best hair day I ever had, and I was eternally grateful to my beautiful hair for how effortlessly great it managed to look all day long.

5 o’clock rolled around and my weekend began. I walked by Clyde’s office one last time on my way out the door, and I had the pleasure of hearing him tell the other people in his office to hold on a second. I feared that he was going to chase me down and try to talk to me, to smooth things over, to try and get back together, but then I heard his boss tell him none-too-gently to finish his presentation, and I smiled as I continued to walk towards the exit uninterrupted.

There was a light breeze as I walked towards my car, causing my long ponytail to lift in the wind and flutter beautifully as I pulled out my keys and got in the car. I wanted to get home so badly for what I had planned, but I was starving, so I forced myself to get something to eat really fast before I headed home. Prolonging the wait was simultaneously excruciating and exhilarating, and relished the feeling as I sat at a table at my favorite restaurant.

I ordered a chicken pot pie and a beer, then noticed my leg was bouncing up and down nervously as I waited for it to arrive. I placed a hand on my leg to calm it, marveling at how soft my leather pants were. Clyde had bought this entire outfit for me years ago, and I knew it had cost him a small fortune. The leather pants in particular were several hundred dollars, and were remarkably comfortable for being rich, genuine leather.

“…by the way,” I heard a voice say, and I looked up to see a handsome young waiter placing my food and beer on the table.

“Excuse me?” I asked politely with a smile.

“I said, your hair is absolutely beautiful by the way,” he said with a smile that suggested he would love nothing more than to plunge his hands into it as we made love in his head, “I can’t think of the last time I’ve seen hair even close to that nice.”

I laughed politely and pulled my long ponytail from behind my chair to over my shoulder so I could stroke it lovingly.

“Well thank you,” I said as I ran my fingers through it absentmindedly, “you have no idea how much I needed that compliment right now.”

“I’m sorry if it was inappropriate,” he said, his smile turning somewhat sheepish.

“It wasn’t inappropriate at all,” I said with a smile, “thank you.”

He smiled politely and walked away, leaving me to enjoy my food in peace. Chicken pot pie was one of my favorite comfort foods, but I could barely savor it as I kept thinking about what was coming, fear and excitement hitting me in equal parts. At one point a drip of gravy fell from my spoon onto my top. I looked down at it for a moment, the gravy would unmistakably leave a stain on this expensive blouse, but then I shrugged, because in an hour or so, it wouldn’t even matter.

I finished and asked for my bill, the waiter flashing me another sheepish grin as he left the check. I looked at it and laughed as I saw that he had taken off ten percent, labeling it as a “great hair discount”. I folded a 20 dollar bill in the check, which would have left him with a 40 percent tip, and got up to leave, but at the last moment I paused for a moment and bent over to write something on the bill.

Thanks for the discount, and making me feel good about myself. Give me a call sometime, the note said, along with my number.

Satisfied and grinning ear to ear, I walked out of the restaurant, feeling the waiter’s eyes on my ponytail as it swung rhythmically back and forth, glistening beautifully in the lights as it did so.

I got home about 7, tossed my purse on the couch, and made a beeline for the kitchen counter. There were three things waiting for me on it: a long satin robe lined with warm, soft fleece, a box of matches, and a white box that was a little larger than the size of a cell phone. I took the three things outside to my firepit and looked around to make sure I was alone for this. My house was secluded, just the way I liked it, and I didn’t see anyone even close to view.

I looked down at my ensemble, which Clyde had bought for me years ago. It was my favorite outfit, but it was a relic of my past, and it was time to say goodbye to reminders. I slipped off my boots and kicked them into the firepit, then slipped out of my blouse and tossed it on top of the boots. I sat down and snaked my way out of my skintight pants, feeling a little sorry that these too had to go, then threw them onto the pile as well. It was a nice day, but not quite warm enough to stand there in a bra and panties, so I slipped into my satin robe, doused my outfit in lighter fluid, struck a match, and tossed it in.

My outfit burst into flames in an instant, and I watched the soft, supple leather of my pants begin to wither and burn almost instantly. As my outfit went up in smoke, I added some blocks of wood to keep the fire going long after the outfit would turn to ash. I sat in silence as I watched the outfit burn, my impossibly long ponytail dancing in the wind despite what was in store for it.

After a couple minutes I took a deep breath as I felt my heart rate quicken, then reached down and opened the small white box. Inside was a gleaming set of professional Wahl clippers, freshly oiled and sharpened for optimum use. I opened my phone and looked at the second picture I had been admiring this morning, a woman with a shaved head… the hairstyle I was about to sport. I smiled with evil malice as I prepared to shave off my beautiful golden hair which had served me so well for the last few years.

I picked up the clippers and held them in front of me for a moment, just looking at the hungry sheen they seemed to emit, hungry for my long, shiny hair. I reached up and ran my fingers through my soft, silky ponytail for what I knew would be the last time. I had debated with the idea of letting it down and doing this strip by strip, but in the end I realized that keeping it in a ponytail would be far more effective and simpler for what I had in mind.

I plugged the clippers into the extension cord I had left out for them last night, and turned them on, smiling at the loud POP they emitted as they buzzed to life. I took one last deep breath, closed my eyes, and then plunged the clippers into the very front of my hairline… right down the middle so there would be no turning back.

My hair was still pulled into its tight ponytail, so instead of moving it all the way to the back of my head like I had originally planned, I only plunged them about 3 or four inches into my hairline, stopping just shy of the elastic band still held in place. I pulled the clippers back, feeling cool air on a small section of my scalp which I knew was now stripped of my beloved hair, a patch of angry, harsh stubble still surrounded by the rest of my soft mane, but this was only the beginning of what was to come.

I made a second pass through the hair just left of the strip I had created, giggling at the deep, grinding gurgle that the clippers made from trying to sever such thick, healthy hair. Five seconds later, the clippers were once again near the hairband, so I pulled them back and started them down the third pass. As I clipped off my magnificent princess-like ponytail, the clippers began to kick out tiny tufts of hair that began to spill into my face. I blew them out of my eyes with a few quick puffs of my breath, but as more and more of my hair was severed from my head, the distraction became more and more prevalent. I felt like I was peeling an orange, if the skin of an orange was made of soft, shining silk.

Before long the front my hairline had been more or less completely severed from my head, so I lifted my ponytail and tossed it over the front of my head, letting it dangle in front of my eyes as I lowered my chin to my neck and began running the clippers up the back of my head. As I felt the clippers making short, simple work of my glorious locks, I just stared at my ponytail dangling there, completely intact. If I didn’t know better, I could almost pretend none of this had happened… that my hair was still as beautiful and healthy as ever, not a single hair out of place, but the angry buzzing at the back of my head reminded me that I had passed the point of no return a long, long time ago, and my hair was rapidly vanishing off my head.

A few passes later and the back of my head had been stripped, as well as the sides, and the only thing keeping my ponytail in place was a thin lock of hair still connecting it to my head. I reached out and gripped my ponytail in my left hand as I pushed the clippers into the base of that final, connective lock, which still desperately clung to the ponytail like some sort of silken umbilical cord. A few seconds later my ponytail sprang free in my hand, and I held it in front of me, staring at it in pure disbelief that something so beautiful and soft had been attached to my head just mere minutes ago.

I clicked the clippers off. I knew there were still patches of longer stubble and stray hairs attached to my head, but for right now, I just needed a moment to process what I had just done. I looked at my ponytail in my hands, beautiful and soft and silky and shining, and was overcome with a deep love for it now that it was gone forever. I smiled lovingly down at it, not at all regretting my decision, but now suddenly slammed with the realization of just how much I was truly going to miss my beautiful mane. My hair was gone… all of it… and there was no taking it back. But now I could grow my hair out however I wanted… and it would be mine… all mine… without a single hint of the taint that Clyde had attached to it. I held my ponytail lovingly for a little longer, then bent down and kissed it appreciatively.

“Thank you,” I whispered to it, then unceremoniously tossed it into the fire.

It landed on the charred, ashy remains of what had been my outfit, but unlike my outfit, it didn’t take minutes to go up in smoke. For a precious second it laid there, a beautiful ribbon of golden silk, but a few heartbeats later, the heat made the hair curl, then crimp, then burst into flames. I expected a horrible, acrid smelling smoke emanated from the blaze, a far cry from the sweet-smelling shampoo that it had possessed just seconds ago, but none did, my amazing hair even smelled sweet when it was burning! It was truly a miracle, and I had just completely and utterly sacrificed it.

Then, almost as quickly as it had burst into flames, the flames vanished, and my long, gorgeous ponytail was gone. Nothing remained of it, not ash, not cinders, even the silk hair-tie that had been holding it together seemed to have vanished completely, and if I hadn’t known any better, I could almost think that it had never existed in the first place. My hair, which just a few moments ago had been the most beautiful hair that I had ever known to exist… was gone without a trace.

After a few moments of quiet reflection, I stood up and walked to my bathroom, taking my clippers with me. I walked in front of the mirror with my head held low, then slowly… methodically… lifted my face to look in the mirror… and gasped. I knew I would look different without my crowning glory framing my face in a beautiful, golden curtain of silk, but I was still shocked by just how different I looked. Strangely, it wasn’t nearly as grotesque as I expected it to be. My facial features were more pronounced, my cute ears, finally visible, in fact… in some ways I even looked… cuter! It was a different look to be sure, but it was FAR from a bad one.

I had expected to find patches of longer stubble and several strands of hair that had managed to make it through the shave, but strangely, there were almost none. A couple patches needed a once over, but for the most part, my head shave looked like it had been done professionally. I slowly reached up and rubbed my head. I had used no attachments to buzz my hair, and the nearly invisible pelt it left behind was rough and prickly. It was insane, but I kind of loved it, and I secretly wondered what everyone else would think.

EPILOGUE

Apparently, I was the minority when it came to liking my new cut.

All of my friends were obviously shocked by the change, and most of them flat out told me that they missed my long hair. Even the ones who initially told me that they liked it eventually came around and spilled giveaways to their true feelings by saying things like “but why would you do it?” or “your hair was so beautiful!”

As the days went on and the questions and back-handed compliments continued to pour in, even I began to question my choice. Every time I instinctively reached up to feel for soft locks that were no longer there, or opened a drawer in my bathroom to find combs, brushes, and conditioners I no longer needed, I would miss those long, silky locks more and more. They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, and I began to realize just how beautiful my hair had really been, and how much I missed it.

The handsome waiter (whose name turned out to be Jim) texted me three days later. We talked back and forth, and finally set a date to meet for dinner and a movie. I sat at a bar waiting for him, nursing a Jameson and dressed to impress in a form-fitting knee-length white cable-knit sweater-dress under a bright red cropped leather jacket and my best pair of white Louboutin heels with red bottoms that perfectly matched my ensemble. I looked great, but realized that one thing that would have topped off the look would be flowing golden hair that fell to my knees… hair that I knew Jim had loved.

I wondered what would be the first thing he said when he saw me. I hadn’t told him about my shave, and I felt kind of bad about that, but I didn’t feel like I was ready to get back into dating only a couple months after Clyde and I split. This could be a good rebound date to get back into the game, and wanting nothing to do with me over my recent radical hair change was as good a reason as any for a date not to work out.

I saw him walk through the door, looking handsome in a tieless tailored suit that no waiter had any right being able to afford, and I waved him over. He had a broad grin as he made his way over to me, and when he saw my hair a look of sheer surprise crossed his face and he shook his head comically.

But what surprised me was the fact that even though his eyes grew wide, his breath seemed to catch, and his head shook quickly in a comical double-take, his smile didn’t even falter… not even a tiny bit.

We drank, laughed, ate, and talked, the conversation came naturally and easily, and I found myself really enjoying my time with Jim. It turned out Jim wasn’t actually a waiter, but the owner of the restaurant. He regularly pulled waiting duty to help out his staff and remember what it was like to be on the floor, and he really liked the fact that despite my looks and obviously high-paying executive position, I had given my number to a waiter rather than look down on him. He didn’t mention my hair once, and it was incredibly refreshing, but I wanted to know what he thought.

“So, I gotta ask you something,” I said as the waiter took our plates and gave us a dessert menu, “you haven’t mentioned my hair.”

“No, I haven’t,” he chuckled as he took another sip of his wine. There was a long silence, but not an awkward or uncomfortable one.

“So?” I asked, smiling invitingly at him to get him to warm up.

“Alright, I’ll talk,” he said, leaning forward, “when I first saw you, for a split second I thought you had just pulled it back incredibly tight.”

“Yeah, it was a tough call, I was debating between putting into a ponytail for tonight, or shaving it all off on a whim. Shaving it all off won by a hair,” and we both laughed, “but to be serious, I actually did this the day I gave you my number. I’m surprised that you don’t seem to mind.”

“No, I don’t,” he said simply.

“So… which style do you like more?” I asked, then regretted doing so. It was an impossible question to answer. If he said “when it was long”, then I would feel ugly, if he said “I like it like this”, then I wouldn’t want to grow it back like I had been planning, it was Clyde all over again.

But Jim surprised me. He thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Honestly, I like both,” he replied, and I suddenly realized this was the right answer.

“But I thought you said my hair was, how did you put it?” I asked in mock recollection, “I believe you said ‘absolutely beautiful’?”

“It is… it was…” Jim quickly corrected, “and I still believe that, but this style really accentuates your face, which is even more stunning, and let’s be honest, the conversations we have been having all night are the most attractive things about you so far.”

“You got that right,” I said, taking another sip of my own wine, “what would you say if I told you I wasn’t planning on keeping this style, and I wanted to grow it out.”

“How long?” Jim asked, and I realized even I didn’t know that.

“I don’t know yet,” I replied honestly, “my shoulders? My waist? Maybe back to my knees? I’m not sure.”

“Now THAT… will be quite the sight to see,” Jim said, and he reached out to place his hand over mine.

I smiled warmly at him, then a thought occurred to me.

“So hey,” I said, feeling butterflies in my stomach, “I know we were going to go to the movies after this, but we can’t really talk in the movie. How about we get dessert, go to the bar, and keep talking?”

“Yeah,” Jim said as he stroked my hand with his thumb, “yeah, I’d actually like that.”

I smiled warmly at him as I turned my hand over and let him hold it, and I realized right then and there that maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was ready to begin dating after all.

THE END

 

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