Home » Language » English » Miriam’s First Flattop (Part 5)

clipper-banner
Our Reader Score
[Total: 1    Average: 1/5]

New Surprises In Store

By now, Miriam was starting to get used to the shaved head and smooth supple skin on her head. She’d started going out to get some sun and give it some color. But she was extra careful not to let it get burned.

The ointment she’d gotten did in fact retard the growth of new hair. Every other day, she’d smear some more of the goop on. It burned less and less each time. She then read about people developing a disease called alopecia, where they could not grow hair at all. Alopecia totalis it was called, she thought. Maybe I ought to let it grow out a bit like Becky did. Maybe a buzz cut style will be better? She kept these thoughts to herself. After two weeks, the cream was almost gone and she opted to see if the hair would grow out again..

Miriam’s mother was still in shock over the whole shaved head. In fact, once or twice she’d rubbed her daughter’s smooth head. She’d inevitably ask how it felt. “Cool and super smooth,” Miriam would reply. “It’s just a totally cool sensation.”

“You can let it grow out now, you know,” her mother would say. “I know, Mom,” Miriam would reply. How could she tell her Mom how she felt?

One night, it came out as they were doing the dishes. Her mom had just recently started seeing a guy she worked with and they were interested in getting to know one another more intimately. Her mom wasn’t sure how to break the lesbian, bald daughter bit to him, but she wanted to tell him.

Miriam felt a little pang of her old, angry ways returning, but she had learned a lot since the flattop had been forced on her. She forced herself to breathe deeply and think about sexy Becky.

Her mom noticed her reaction. “Things have sure changed for you since you got involved in this relationship.”

Miriam felt the anger dissipating rapidly. “Why do you say that, Mom?”

“Well,” her mother replied, “you’re my daughter. I see that old seething look coming back. Before all this,” she waved vaguely in the air, as if it described the whole series of events that had taken place, “you’d be angry and upset. I might have had to force you to get another flattop.” Here she grinned. “I’m just glad that since you’ve started seeing Becky you’ve really come to mature a lot and your self control is great. I wish I’d seen it before, long before, I’d been forced to punish you.”

Miriam smiled and gave her mom a big hug. “Thanks Mom.”

Her mother continued. “I wish I knew what to tell your grandma. She called the other day asking me why you were sporting what looked like a boy’s flattop. I had to explain it to her, but I could not make myself tell her about your shaved head and new friend. Do you think I should?”

Miriam wondered why she would ask. Her grandmother was one of the kindest and most understanding people she knew. She might not understand why Miriam did what she did or the whole thing about going steady with another girl, but she’d try to comprehend and make the best out of it. “Sure, you should tell her,” Miriam replied.

Her mother nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Maybe you’d like to tell her yourself. I’m going to call her tomorrow night.”

“Why not tonight?”

“She’s got bridge club tonight.”

“Oh,” Miriam said. “Still, I think she’s got a bit of that independent spirit in her. She’d probably think it was neat. I think I share that with her.”

Her mother seemed to stiffen a little as she said this. “As if I don’t? I am her daughter like you’re mine, you know.”

Miriam was puzzled and uncertain what to say. “Well. I mean. ummm.”

“You think you are the only one with that bit of independent spirit? Well, just you wait.” Her mother trailed off. Miriam could not coax out of her what she was hinting at other than a “wait and see”.

Her mother told her tomorrow she had to be out most of the afternoon doing errands. “You’ll be with Becky, I guess,” she said. Miriam shook her head.

“No, Becky’s away with her parents this weekend. I’ll be home, probably catching up on my chores.”

“Well, then.” Miriam’s mother rubbed her chin. “Hmmmm.”

But Miriam could not figure out what her mother was thinking about. As she went to bed, she tried to imagine what it was her mother would do. But she could not come up with a solution as her eyes closed and she slipped into unconsciousness.

——————————————————————————–

True to her word, the next day Miriam’s mother went out just after lunch. Miriam got most of her chores done early enough that she figured on spending part of the afternoon getting some sun in the backyard.

She went outside in her bikini, rubbing tan lotion on her. Then, she got the wild idea of trying to eliminate some tan lines and she quickly removed her bikini top. She rubbed more suntan lotion on her exposed breasts. Lastly, she rubbed some on her bare scalp, lightly covering it so as to still allow it to get some color.

She particularly enjoyed rubbing her hands on her bare, smooth scalp. Since the gel had run out, she’d opted to let it grow in a bit, to see how it looked. She felt the fine, coarse hairs sticking minutely out of the skin and was pleased to note that it seemed to be coming in all over in a pretty much uniform pattern. She knew that meant more to shave off later! She’d often rub her scalp so much the skin would feel almost raw. But, she imagined, what was the point of doing it if you couldn’t enjoy it as well?

She laid out in the sun for about 2 hours, being careful to control how much sun exposure her scalp and bare breasts got. She knew that she was more daring as well since the head shave. She knew she’d never have dared lay out in the backyard topless if she still had her long tresses. Sometimes, she missed brushing and coming them. But then, there was the whole feeling of those bare clipper blades chattering and crunching their way through her hair. That sensation made it all worthwhile in her mind. She rejoiced in the feeling of her short, and most recently bare, scalp. The flattop had been an awakening. Look what happened after that!

As her mother pulled in to the driveway later that afternoon, Miriam was just finishing the vacuuming. As the door opened, Miriam noticed that her mom was wearing a baseball cap. She never wore one, in fact Miriam could not recall that her mother even wore one! What was going on? She asked her mother.

“Help me with the groceries and I’ll tell you.” Miriam did as she was asked. She helped unload, store and arrange the week’s groceries. Then her mom led her into the living room and motioned her to sit on the sofa. Miriam sat down and looked at her mother.

“I hope this won’t shock you too much,” her mother said. And without a word, she removed her baseball cap.

Miriam recalled that her mother always had hair down to about halfway down her neck. Her neck always seemed so pure and well shaped. Miriam felt envious of that neck. She felt her own was ungainly and too thin. Still, Becky loved to kiss it.

So, the surprise was now Miriam’s as she saw her mother pull off the cap. She’s had a trim, or something, Miriam thought.

You might be able to imagine the total surprise as the removed baseball cap revealed something quite different. Her mother was sporting a boy’s crew cut, short and faded down the sides to blend seamlessly into her smooth, perfect neck. Her mother had visited a barber! Miriam gasped in surprise and her mother grinned.

“Still think you’re the only independent one around here,” her mom asked. Miriam was almost stunned. However, she leapt up and gave her mom a hug and rubbed the short hair. “It’s wonderful, Ma,” she breathed. “Totally awesome! But why?”

“Sit down, honey. Now the dramatics are over I’ll tell you the story.”

Miriam sat down and so did her mother. However, Miriam couldn’t stop feeling that incredible short hair on her mother’s head. It was so unlike her, yet it fitted her perfectly. Her mother started to te
ll her what had happened.

Miriam’s mother (here I should say that her name was Denise, to help clarify) went to bed that night, wondering what she should do to `prove’ she was as independent as her daughter and mother. It was true, she rued, that she’d often been too cautious, too careful and too subdued. She had a position in the bank, but she never challenged herself to move up the career chain. She’d felt drained after the bitter divorce with her ex-husband. Miriam’s anger had really come from him, he was always displaying those upsetting tendencies.

I deserve to have a punishment meted out to me as well! I was to blame for not seeing in Miriam what I feared to see! I need to be brought back to reality! Still, as her eyes closed and her busy mind slowly settled into slumber, she was uncertain.

Denise had a couple of strange dreams that night and she tossed and turned uncomfortably. In one dream, as she walked into a room, she saw Miriam cutting Becky’s hair and Miriam turned to her. “Like it? Huh? I’m giving her a short boy’s style. She’s gonna look so cute as a boyish girl!” As Denise started to back up, Miriam grinned. “Where are you going?? You’re next!!” And she brandished a pair of scissors in a threatening manner. Denise woke up in a cold sweat and needed a minute or two to slow her heartbeat down and come to grips that it was just a dream. She even reached up and felt her longish hair. She needed a trim. Maybe, just maybe.

The next morning, she would look at her daughter’s shiny scalp and wonder why she had done it. What had possessed her? She almost got lost in a haze of thought, but she managed to hide what she had `threatened’ to do from her daughter. Miriam seemed puzzled, almost concerned, but Denise knew she had to keep any decision from her.

As soon as lunch was over, Denise got in the car and drove downtown. She passed a hair salon and, remembering the dream from the night before, decided to get in that line. She couldn’t avoid it.

When she went into the salon there were a few people there. One girl approached her and asked if she had an appointment.

“No,” Denise replied. “I sort of.well.”

“What is it?”

Denise almost felt her nerve break, but then she saw a boy getting a shorter cut with the clippers and she steeled herself to ask. “If I wanted to get a short, really short haircut, would you.” she trailed off, a lump in her throat.

The girl looked at her in a strange way. “You’ve got a nice head of hair, ma’am. You ought to just get it trimmed.”

Denise shook her head. “No, thanks just the same. Will you.?”

The girl pondered for a second. “We really don’t cater to that sort of thing. Sorry. Try the barber shop down three blocks.”

Denise backed out and thanked her. She turned in the direction of the barber’s shop and made her way down on foot.

When she arrived, there was a boy sitting in the chair, a cape around his neck. The barber, an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair combed vaguely to the right, stood behind the boy, giving what looked like the finishing touches on some sort of short bowl cut for the youth. He was using a pair of hardy looking electric trimmers. She smiled at the pair of them and sat down to flick idly through a National Geographic.

The boy’s haircut, being nearly done, was quickly over as Denise could feel her heart pounding at her ribcage. The boy gave the barber some money and walked out, rubbing his freshly mown bowl cut. Denise thought he looked good in it.

The barber came over to her. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Denise swallowed hard and looked up at him square in the eyes. “Do you cut lady’s hair here?”

He nodded. “Sure, lady. I don’t do that fancy stuff. I don’t perm and color and prim and proper it. I just use the scissors, clippers and comb. I didn’t go to a fancy school for this, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine!” She leapt up and started to walk towards the waiting leather chair. Expecting it to be cold, she was surprised how warm it was and how it seemed to wrap into her like a comforting second skin. She looked at her hair and portrait in the mirror. She silently told herself that Miriam was right in the dream. It was her turn!

“So, what’ll it be?”

“I’d like something really short. Like a boys crew cut I guess.”

“You’re serious,” he exclaimed. “You sure? That’s really short.”

“Like how short?”

The barber picked up his hefty clippers and attached a small black plastic guide to the metal blades. “That’s a #2. It’s a quarter of an inch.”

“That ought to be good enough.” She could hardly believe that she heard herself saying that! “Please give me a crew cut with that number..two did you say?” He nodded. “Yes, the number two,” she concluded.

“All over?”

Denise felt drawn towards the inevitable, rather like a whirlpool sucking in the surrounding matter. “Yeah,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “All over.” The words nearly seemed hollow, but the barber didn’t notice or say anything. He picked up a pair of scissors. He started to comb her hair out.

“Aren’t you going to use those clippers you were holding,” Denise asked, puzzled.

“In a minute. You’ve got a lot of hair. The scissors will help thin out the hair and make it easier for them to do their job.”

Denise nodded, feeling a thrill rather like Miriam had when she’d had the shave. It was the electric thrill of the brutally short haircut. The anticipation, the cuts, the buzzing chatter and the bristly hair were all coming now, not much she could do about it.

Still, there was a shiver of fear that ran up and down her spine as the barber said he was going to “thin out her hair”. She had never had been “thinned out” before, no matter how long she’d had it. The barber didn’t waste any time getting started. He began to grasp clumps of her hair and slice through them with an almost sawing motion. “Gosh,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of hair! It might take me a little bit to get this worked down so I can buzz it.”

Denise indicated that he should continue. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed the sounds and tugs on her head. Part of her was uncertain this was real and she half expected to wake up and find she’d just woken up. Any moment now?

That moment didn’t appear to be in a hurry to arrive, so she might as well sit back. But since she still expected to find it a dream, she left her eyes closed. The sound of the quiet crunching of the scissors was nearly rhythmic enough to put her to sleep! Still, the tugging on her hair kept her alert enough.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she heard the barber move to the bench and place what sounded like a metal object down. She correctly deduced that these were the scissors. She now knew that he’d probably picked up the clippers.

She wondered what Garry, the man she’d started seeing at the bank, was going to think of her new `do. She was sure that he’d understand, but she’d only be seeing him for about a month, so anything was indeed possible.

Indeed, her guess about the clippers was right. She heard them snap on and started their buzzing chatter. They almost sounded, in her mind, like an angry swarm of mechanical bees. Ones that loved to chomp on hair!

The barber began to push the blades against the back of her head and started to push up toward the top. She felt like he was almost, almost, mowing a lawn that severely needed to be shorn. She was a sheep that needed a good shearing so that the wool could go to a nice sweater.

These fantasies that were running through her head were helping her cope with what she’d decided to do. A day ago, she would never have dreamed of doing this. It was a sort of self-punishing haircut. Only she was enjoying it too much to say it was a “punishment”. She could feel the corners of her mouth slowly curling upwards. Was this how her only daughter felt as the razor scraped over her young skin? Did she feel the same way? Was it enjoyable? She steeled herself to bring herself to the present and get to grips with comm
unicating better with Miriam. And with her own mother as well. She wondered how insane it would sound that a haircut had changed her personal perspective around! Still, it was true!

She still kept her eyes closed, feeling and hearing the hair being cut mercilessly by the chattering metal teeth. As they made their pass, she could sense the current of air as the barber moved about, wafting against her shorn hair. She made a slight, unconscious shiver.

This time, it seemed like the barber was going way too fast for her. The scissors seemed to take forever, perhaps because she was used to them for so long. But this feeling was different and seemed to be going too fast. She wanted to ask him to slow down and let her enjoy the sensation, but the words died in her throat. Part of her wanted to escape! Part of her wanted the dream to be over and reality to begin!

Still, the chattering teeth were caressing and working around her left ear. They seemed to almost speak to her. She realized that the barber was going somewhat more methodically than she’d felt like. She wondered how many ladies walked in and got men’s haircuts. She had what felt like a thousand things she wanted to say to him, to ask him, but she didn’t want to disturb his practice, his art demanded her patience and peace.

Still, the urge was getting stronger and stronger for her to open her eyes and watch him work. Watch the chattering metal teeth mow and crunch leaving the hair that was judged too long fall away!

Denise wondered if she was losing her grip on reality. She was having all these fantasy moments and was getting a boy’s crew cut! Really, what was she doing? Was she losing her mind? She suspected that she might be.

The metal teeth now started to work on her right side and were soon chattering around her ear. The barber bent the cartilage of her ear out of the way so that the teeth could work around the area on their hungry feast. All too soon for her taste, he seemed to finish up the right side.

The barber moved to the top and she felt him go straight down the middle of the top of her head as he worked on the final stage of cropping her head. The metal teeth continued to chatter away busily, their sound and the sound of the crunching strands of her hair, were all Denise was conscious of. Somehow, about this point she realized in fact she was awake, conscious, in reality and above all: getting a crew cut!

He continued moving the clippers over her head and mowing the long hairs away. He made several passes over the top, then seemed to pause. Denise nearly opened her eyes then, but she heard the clippers get a little louder. “Just touching up and making sure I didn’t miss anything.” It was the first words either of them had said since he commented on how thick her hair was.

He touched up a few spots, far fewer in reality than she’d suspected. He must have done a pretty thorough job, she thought. The clippers snapped off and he brushed around the neck area. He moved around. “Just a couple more things. I’ll square off the back and shave the neck area clean for you. It will make it look neater.”

Denise nodded. He had grabbed a pair of small edge clippers. He turned them on and Denise felt the cold blades press against her neck as they really got the hair below her natural hairline to fall away. They worked across in a line, squaring off her hairline. Then the barber put what felt to her like a warm foam to her neck. Soon, a razor was scrapped over the skin of the nape of her neck. In all the years she’s worn the hair around her neck, it had never once had a lather and shave on it. This was a day of firsts for Denise.

“So, what do you think,” he asked as she realized the whole thing was over. It was time to open her eyes and face the new her! Slowly she did so.

As the light flooded back into her eyes and she got used to it again, there was a completely different woman in the mirror looking back at her! The woman in the mirror had short, brutally short, bristly looking hair. Her head was outlined clearly and she could see the woman’s scalp. As Denise went to move her head around, she became aware of two things. Firstly, the familiar feeling of her nearly 8 inch hair flopping around her was noticeably absent. Second, the woman in the mirror moved her head at the exact same moment she did. No matter what Denise did, the woman in the mirror matched her, albeit opposite. Denise knew the woman in the mirror was her!

She nodded slowly and got up. “Very nice work, mister.” She gave him a nice tip and shook his hand. “Bet I’m the first woman you’ve given one of these to,” she muttered as she saw a man and young girl were in the waiting area. She wondered if the little girl would look at her short haircut and want to try it herself. Denise could not stop rubbing it with her hand. Soft, yet slightly resistive hairs, returned the sensation.

“Actually, no,” the barber replied, thanking her for her business. “Feel free to come back for a touch up trim in a week or two if you decide to keep it. Looks great on you! Better than I thought it might. It suits you.”

Denise nodded and left as she saw the man rise to get his haircut. She smiled at the little girl and whispered to her “someday maybe you’ll get one of these haircuts. They feel so awesome!” The little girl asked her if she could feel it and Denise complied.

“Wow, that feels odd. You’re a grown up lady and you got it that short?”

Denise nodded. “Yes. Sometimes it feels good to go against the grain and do something unique. Maybe someday you’ll feel like trying it to.”

The little girl nodded as Denise rose. “Maybe I will,” the girl said.

A few people looked at her as she walked back to her car to go to the store. She stopped at the sporting goods store and purchased a baseball cap, something to wear when she got home and saw Miriam. Wow, her daughter was not going to believe this had happened any more than she believed in it herself.

When she got home and revealed the #2 crew cut to her daughter, she relayed the story of what had happened and how she’d steeled her nerve to take this severe plunge.

Miriam smiled as she sat with her mother. Her mother had punished herself in the same way that she had punished Miriam for being out and drinking. A flattop was a little more masculine than Denise’s choice of style, but still both were brutally short. Perhaps had her mother tried the style out at the same time, things might have taken a different turn for both of them. But, Miriam was happy just to know that her mom had decided to venture out and risk this kind of short, cropped style.

“Now, what a story we’re both going to have to tell your grandma,” Denise laughed.

Watch for Chapter 6 – The Girl Next Door

Leave a Reply

clipper-banner