If I had to sum myself up in a single phrase it would probably be 'adventurous, but indecisive'. I take the view that if you can't do it while you can, you might regret not having done it when you can't do it anymore. Perhaps it's the wrong philosophy as here I am 32 and single. But then how can you be adventurous if you have a jealous partner in tow. That's not to say that I haven't had long term relationships, they just haven't developed into anything permanent. On lonely, melancholy evenings I like to sit with a glass of wine and think over some of my partners and smile. The things I did, the things we did together. Good memories, mostly. Not that there are too many of those evenings, but we do all need some time for reflection occasionally.
I'm at one of those points now. Relationship fizzled out, waiting for the next one to come along. I'll definitely need a change this time. I've concluded that women aren't my thing. Well, I think I have, who knows! Anyway, time for a return to the straight and narrow.
I got out of the shower and dried myself, wrapping my hair in a towel to keep it out of the way for a while. It was while standing in the shower stall washing my hair that I came up with my plan. I even came up with a name for it. 'Amy's Plan to Decide Her New Hairstyle'. Well, there's no point wasting effort on minor things, is there!
I padded naked out of the bathroom, pert breasts bobbing enticingly for anyone who was able to see through the window, belly held as flat as it would go by a sharp intake of breath. A girl can dream!! I had picked up my robe as I left the bathroom and put it on as I walked, pleased for the opportunity to exhale again. I'm a long way from fat, but a trip to the gym probably wouldn't hurt.
I sat at the desk in the study and flicked the mouse to get rid of the screensaver. It seemed an age while I logged on, but then there it was. The site showing all manner of hairstyles, long, short, in-between. All manner of colours. And yes, there it was, a picture of the girl with the shaven head. Looked like some sort of charity thing to me, but it was difficult to work out which. Anyway, no time to delay, I had to put my plan into action. I saved the web page and logged off.
Here's the clever bit. I now had a folder with the pictures from the site in it. Pictures with obscure names, numbers mostly that wouldn't serve to identify what the picture actually was. I was now ready to play my version of 'Russian Roullette'. All I had to do was double click on an image and that would tell me what I was going to do. None of this standing in the bookstore poring over style magazines, no need to ask for advice. There it was, instant decision. There it was. Holy shit, no.
I may just as well have been playing real 'Russian Roullette', with a gun and a bullet in the chamber. Well, if I had and lucked out like I just had, perhaps I wouldn't have felt sick. I know, I wouldn't have felt much at all, but here I was with my equivalent of the bullet on the first spin. It was only there to provide the danger element, a single image amongst twenty or so. There she was. Big-hearted, public spirited. Bald.
I went downstairs, not feeling so clever anymore. I poured a cup of coffee and sat quietly. Deep in thought. A plan. The beauty of my version of the 'game' was that you could have another go if you didn't like what you got. Brilliant. I was upstairs in a flash, eager to discover my new hairstyle. She looked at me, accusingly. I hit her with the mouse pointer right in the 'x' and closed her down. I selected again, towards the bottom of the list. I tilted my head this way and that as I looked at the picture. I was going to be a red-head. The hair in the picture was actually longer than mine, but that's not my fault. It was a game of chance after all, and you have to go with the hand you're dealt!!
I shut down the PC and went back to the bathroom to finish drying my hair. I worked at it with fluid movements, working brush and dryer as one. I didn't really need the mirror, but it was nice to look at my straight, dark blonde hair as it fell to my shoulders. I finished my hair and went downstairs again. Phone book, that's what I needed.
I really didn't want to go to my regular salon. I would be too embarrassed with them, it had to be someone new. If only I could take the ads out and choose in the same way that I had chosen the style. Then it was staring me in the face. What better name for my chosen salon than 'Random'. I picked up the phone.
That was it done. Simple, no messing and remarkably enough, only an hour to wait. Back upstairs to get dressed and then time to go. I looked at myself in the mirror by the front door on the way out. Casual, but smart. Tight jeans, ankle boots just high enough to make my legs look that little bit longer. Just enough cleavage on display to invite the right sort of attention if the need arose. Hair. Hair tied back loosely, ready to be released at the first sign of provocation. I was gone.
There was nothing random about the salon when I got there. It had all been very carefully thought out, beautifully planned and presented. Random, indeed.
"Hi, I'm Amy Walker - for a colour" I said to the receptionist.
"Hello" she smiled as she looked down at the diary. "Ah, yes, that's with Julia. If you take a seat, I'll let her know you're here".
"It's OK, Mel, I'm here" came a voice from the other side of the partition. Then she appeared, hand outstretched in welcome.
"Hi, Amy, I'm Julia" she said. Well-groomed, pretty in a not too pretty sort of way. Mid-twenties, perhaps, shortish dark hair. Not quite black, but not a million miles from it.
I smiled back at her as she gestured for me to follow her. All very efficient. Gown selected and swirled, coffee offered, down to business.
"So, we're feeling like a change then" she said, more of a statement than a question. Without waiting for the reply she was off to a shelf a couple of stations along. She returned with what were obviously colour charts. She had been well-briefed by the receptionist.
"So, you're determined to go red, are you" she asked, this time looking like she expected an answer.
"Oh, definitely. Has to be red." I said.
She handed me the chart. "Anything you fancy there" she asked.
"What would you recommend?" I asked.
"Well, that depends how much you want to stand out. I like this one, myself" she said, pointing to a vivid, fiery red."
"Wow" was the best that I could muster. Ok, so here I was, a red-head to-be as a result of a game of chance. There was nothing about the shade of red that I should go. Was I supposed to go for something as bright as this or just a hint of red? The game certainly needed refining before the next time. There's no point trying to do something where you have minimal involvement in the outcome if you're left with such a major part to play, is there? There was nothing for it.
"I'm in your hands completely" I said. There. The element of chance re-introduced.
"Welllllllll" she said, in a drawn out, doubtful sort of way "I probably wouldn't advise you to go for the red at all."
"But I have to" I blurted out. She looked at me quizzically.
"I've decided" I said, somewhat abruptly.
"The customer is always right" she said quietly, taking the chart back from me. She disappeared again, and returned dragging a trolley with various things on it. She set to work in silence.
"I'm sorry, Julia" I said, as she started to apply the colour. "I didn't mean to offend you, that probably came out wrong. I just meant to say that I want to be a red-head."
She smiled at me. "Don't worry about it" she said.
She worked on intently.
"Why so certain?" she asked eventually. "About red" she added when she saw my puzzled look.
I told her. About me not being able to make up my mind. About the game. About the first picture. About the second.
"So, you cheated" she said.
"No, I just had another go".
"But I thought that you had decided that the first picture would decide it for you."
There wasn't much I could say about that. She fell silent again. She finished and left me to my own devices while the colour did its work. I read quietly, surprised that it wasn't busier. I suppose they pick up about luchtime, I thought.
She was back, I was off to the basins. I knew the routine, it happened with the minimum of chat. she washed, I stared at the ceiling at the cunningly placed advertisement that had been put up there. Before I knew it I was back at the styling station. Well, the new me, the red me, was at the styling station. It was certainly bright. Very, very bright.
She was towelling and combing and drying. The colour stayed bright. It went quiet as she switched off the dryer.
"Well, is that what you wanted?" she asked, her hands on the back of the chair.
I tried to look at myself from as many directions as possible, before venturing an opinion.
"Perfect" I said, not wishing to show my concern that perhaps it was a little too bright. I would get used to it, it would fade, I tried to tell myself.
She picked up a couple of strands and ran her fingers through.
"There's still time you know" she said, catching my eye in the mirror.
"For what?" I asked.
"To play the game properly" she said.
"You mean....?"
"It's not for me to say, but you said that you'd have the first style that came out. If you weren't prepared to do that then there was no point going to all that trouble in the first place."
"I know, but there are limits" I countered.
"So why include the picture if you weren't prepared to do it?" she asked.
"There's no arguing with you, is there?" I said.
"Only because you know I'm right".
Using my feet, I spun the chair so that I could face her.
"I don't know what to say. It was a game, an idea. It was stupid really," I said.
"I won't charge you for the colour, if that's what you're thinking" she said.
"That's the last of my worries. You're here trying to persuade me to let you shave my head" I said, perhaps a little louder than I intended. I was conscious of a turned head further up the salon.
"You did say that you were in my hands completely. And if you'd told me everything about the game, we needn't have put that colour on you. But as you say, it was your game, and if you want to cheat, well, you're only cheating yourself".
I had only met this girl an hour before and now here she was lecturing me.
"Look, I'm sorry, I'm wasting your time. I'd better go" I said.
"You're the one who's going to go home, thinking all the way about what I said, not me" she said.
I got up. "I suppose I'll survive" I said.
She helped me off with the gown and walked with me down to reception. It was empty. She keyed her code into the register to spark it to life.
"That's £35 please." I gave her a fifty. I looked round as she fiddled with the money in the register.
"It doesn't matter" I said.
She looked up quizzically.
"The rest's for the cut" I said.
"But I didn't........" she started. She smiled. "Good girl" she said.
She motioned to me to follow her. Different gown, different chair, different me. I looked at myself in the mirror. She reached down to a shelf in the unit. She took out a pair of electric clippers and in the same movement, turned them on. They were quieter that I thought they would be. Our eyes met in the mirror.
"It's a game" she said as she placed them at my forehead. The briefest of pauses, during which she found my gaze again in the mirror. No reaction. The clippers moved backwards. They changed tone slightly. It was too late. It still didn't feel like it was me. I could feel the buzzing sensation, but the red hair falling down wasn't mine. In a curious way, removing this redness was progressively revealing the real me again.
"You've done this before" I said.
"One of the true perks of the job" she said. "I've got a client who did it a couple of years ago. Longer than yours when we first did it, but she's kept it ultra short ever since. Shaves it every now and again as a treat for her husband."
"So you think it looks ok?" I said.
"On the right person it should be compulsory" she said "It just focusses the attention where it belongs, on the features, not on some artificial creation that may or may not be very well done in the first place."
"You've thought about it, haven't you?" I asked as she moved the clippers up the nape of my neck. She didn't answer. I stared at myself. Crown denuded, right side denuded, longish, flame red hair on the left. Strange.
"I've thought about it" she said eventually.
"And...?" I asked.
"I've never played your game" she replied.
"So, how about 'Snap!'" I asked.
"We'll see" she said.
She was progressing well. The final long strand fell from my temple. She started to go over certain areas again. I stared. There was no longer anything to say. She was silent. I gasped as she applied the foam to my head and even gasped as the raor touched my scalp for the first time. That was really it. Shaved. With a razor. All the way. Some game.
She really was expert at it and in a matter of minutes she was wiping off the excess foam from the tips of my ears and other inappropriate bits. I stared. I turned my head this way and that.
"That red wasn't me" I said eventually. She smiled. I got up.
I kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you" I said and turned towards the door. She walked just behind me. I stopped at reception.
"You've paid" she said.
"So you're not playing." I said.
"I've got a note from my mom" she said, smiling. "Come back and see me and perhaps it will be doubles next time" she said.
"I'll be back in an hour" I said cheekily.
"Perhaps my mom will think it's ok for me to play by then" she replied.
"Thanks, Julia. I'll see you for a trim sometime" I said, and turned to go.
"I look forward to it" she said.
I walked out of the salon and turned towards the main row of stores. Windows. I needed windows to look at myself in. And people. I needed to see reactions before I went very much further. I walked. I liked what I saw. No-one spat. Someone whistled.
I smiled and turned for the lap of honour. 'And the winner is...', I thought.
Rate this story now.
Enter some comments about this story or see what others have said on the forums.
Recommendations
If you liked this story, here are others that you might like.
Your Internet home for stories about male and female haircuts, head shaves, buzz cuts, alternative hairstyles, and more!
Copyright 2002-2012 by the owners of HaircuttingStories.com