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Some of you know me more or less, because my husband wrote about 20 haircut stories. Two years ago a small story appeared about our holidays in Indonesia. Of course I know his hair fetishism, but it was quite a surprise to learn that he wrote several stories in which I was a main character. Otherwise he used all kinds of details about his/our family to make up his stories. At the moment I am interested in modern history and some months ago I needed a diskette to download some information that I received from some of my friends. I could not find any and looked in Robert’s cupboard. I saw a pile of them and as usual Robert did not seem to mind adding some information to the stored documents. Somewhat irritated I just put one of them in the computer to check if it might be empty.

To my surprise I saw a lot of titles, many of them with the words crewcut or headshave. A lot of them seemed to be related with one of the places or countries where my dear husband spent holidays with or without me. I was not in a real hurry and started to read some of the stories. Soon I discovered a crazy mixture of facts and fiction from our own life Some of them were amusing but many expressed a much stronger fetishism than I experienced in our daily life or is it better to say that I did not want to recognise those signals?

I read on and on and realised that all those stories by Barber Jos covered hundreds of pages. I don’t know but suddenly I started to cry and realised that behind and besides those stories my husband had a whole hidden life I really knew about his hair fetishism and in the course of the years my hair became shorter and shorter and the story Pendek Sekali was a fair representation of visits to barbers in Sumatra 2 years ago.

Sometimes I literally accused him that his wishes for short hair seemed to develop into a more and more extreme obsession.

In the beginning I disliked the visits of barbershops, thinking that the barbers might find our, or better, Roberts wishes too strange. Of course we attracted a lot of attention, but even without our extreme haircuts we would be stared at during our visits to remote places, where hardly any foreigner seemed to come.

To be honest I did not object too much, because I knew far too well myself that Robert was extremely aroused by those extreme short haircuts.

I reacted very strongly to his behaviour and this sexual stimulation made the holiday even more exciting. This was even a bonus because this holiday itself was already fascinating enough.

Robert’s knowledge of the local language and culture made the holiday a great experience.

Last year we visited one of the Nordic countries and Robert proposed to cut my hair as short as in Indonesia. It was horrible not to say a disaster. The climate was horrible and spending a lot of time ill at home before we left our country made that I did not look very well. Most of the time I covered my almost bald head with a cap. Moreover we quarrelled a lot with me stressing once more that his hair fetishism was far too extreme.

Last winter we decided again to go for a new holiday to Indonesia. Soon Robert started to make suggestions about visits to small barbershops. At fist I hardly reacted but it was far too attractive to play with his and my own dreams, as it stimulated the both of us.

Sometimes I just suggested shaving his hair with clippers and of course Robert reacted by suggesting the same for me and often he just indicated that this year my hair might be cut extremely short, only leaving the suggestion of sandpaper.

"And of course we will leave a small quif, no more no less", was the last remark.

My discovery of the stories put me in a difficult position. For one or another reason I knew that a straight confrontation might result in a disaster. I knew quite well that reading these most private stories was quite an intrusion into the privacy of Robert and could easily lead to a situation of distrust, that I certainly didn’t like to cause.

I realised that I should have to build a bridge between his world of fantasy and the real world in which both of us should have to live in the future.

For some weeks I left the whole thing but it followed me almost day and night.

Moreover, I soon realised that those stories were not restricted to a disc in the cupboard. It was the complete stories which seemed to be published on the Internet. It was not difficult to trace because entering Barber Jos in Google was enough to find an enormous collection of haircut stories. I even found that my dear Robert used my first name,Mona, in one of the biggest stories as a co-author. Maybe discovering my name there resulted in a crazy thing.

Thinking about our forthcoming holiday in Indonesia, I wrote a small story myself and sent it to the haircut story archive. The story, "I Feel The Knife", easily developed when I started to think what the most extreme haircut, a headshave, might mean. Thinking about it, I just crept under the skin of some of the characters that easily were created when I started my fantasy.

I just sent the story to the haircut story archive using the name, Barber Jos, and wondered what might happen. I knew, reading the stories, that he often changed his identity, writing sometimes from the male point of view but even more experiencing the haircuts as a female. In fact nothing happened, because during a month no new stories seemed to be published. It was a crazy situation. Knowing his sense of humour, I knew that Robert might be very amused. b But, at the same time, I wondered if he might associate the writer with me.

During the last month before our departure, Robert refused to cut my and his own hair and it was clear that he saved our hair for visits to barbers in Indonesia. In fact, my hair is usually very short and the only hair that Robert was willing to cut was the bangs which I like very short and whispy something that barbers are usually not doing too well. We were very happy when, at long last, we left our house.

Happily the flight to Singapore was not too bad and half a day later we were sitting at Singapore for the connecting flight too Medan.

In fact Robert did not like to spend much time there because he knew the usually very hot and humid climate far too well.

We arrived late in the afternoon in Medan and going on some more hours by taxi, didn’t seem a very good option. We felt how our clothes seemed far too hot and soon streams of sweat were coming out of our skin. We were lucky with hardly any delay at customs. Robert tried to bargain for a taxi but it was not necessary, as the prices seemed to be fixed. Soon we were in the middle of a lot of traffic and Robert, fluent in the Indonesian language, seemed to be already bargaining or informing about tomorrow’s continuation of our holiday.

Soon we were at a very basic and cheap hotel. The room seemed to be okay, except for a cockroach, which hurried away when we inspected the bathroom. The room seemed to be clean, the airconditioner worked, and the windows were, more or less, screened. Anyway enough to say that the room was good enough. The servant of the hotel disappeared and somewhat paralysed by the heat, we wondered what to do. It was still afternoon, but maybe after an hour the darkness should start. We took a bath throwing buckets of water over our bodies and soon we felt a lot better. With fresh clothes we almost forgot that we were quite tired.

Our only Indonesian money was the equivalent of some dollars and the first job was to find money; easy enough, because everywhere in town we discovered the ATM-signs. But before we discovered that, we were already sweating again. Within some minutes we were walking with a lot of millions of Rupiah’s. At the very moment that we left the hotel or better our room we felt the horrible climate and I felt again my hair sticking on my skull.

Seeing Robert, I realised that one of his first activities might be a search for a barber. To my surprise this was not his first need.

In fact, he remembered that there were a lot of attractive antique shops.

He made clear that leaving this town already early next morning might mean that he should miss those shops, where he hoped to see some local traditional textiles. His hair fetish is bad but he is even more addicted to some of his obsessions as a collector.

At first it surprised me that he just passed a barber, not even glancing inside the empty barbershop. But that was a mistake because 2 weeks later he knew exactly where Murni’s barbershop could be found.

We hurried through a long street. The whole world around us seemed to be crazy.

There seemed to be a kind of traffic jam and we noticed that most of the shops were already closing.

We just walked on only interrupted by the sound and passing of fire engines followed by a lot of tank lorries, on which we saw a lot of grinning personal.

It seemed almost a dream, the more when some minutes later the whole row of cars passed again hurrying in another direction.

I heard Robert murmur that he hoped that not all barbershops were burning.

It was his first real utterance about a visit to a barber. Some minutes later we walked in the street were Robert hoped to find all the antique shops, but we were too late. It seemed to become darker and darker and seeing the well-known Tip-Top restaurant we decided to have a meal.

Our first nasi goreng and cold. Beer for me. After our meal we decided to walk farther, but it was clear enough that the central part of Medan did not have any shop that was still open.

Anyway we needed some bottles of water for the night and it was clear enough that Robert wanted to have his first haircut and to be honest I was wishing the same. Robert halted a taxi and explained that we were in urgent need to buy some bottles of water and a visit to a simple barber.

The taxi-driver started to drive around and although we came in areas where some shops were still open the barbers seemed to be closed already. But our taxi-driver persisted in his wish and promise to bring us to a barber.

And suddenly we stopped at a corner where we saw lots of barber chairs and lots of barbers. Robert paid and we entered the barbershop, but suddenly I felt myself very shy here with all that public, amusing themselves with the two foreigners.

I told Robert that I preferred to wait.

Although in our opinion there were lots of other customers Robert was immediately seated and soon he had to explain what he wished.

All the barbers were very young boys and I wondered how good they were.

Robert explained that he wished the hair at back and sides extremely short and still somewhat longer hair at the top.

Soon I saw the clippers working their way up on the back of his head. Lots of hair were tumbling down, leaving a trace of short bristles and showing a lot of skin. The barber made a good job of it, repeating again and again the movement of the clippers across back and sides of the head.

I heard Robert murmuring: "something for you like this" I shivered , a crazy experience in that climate. The barber changed an attachment and continued the work on top of the head of my husband.

After that the barber made a lot of work of the blending and it was clear that he was really good.

The barber asked what to do with the beard and Robert indicated that he was happy if the barber removed most of the beard leaving a small short pointed beard.

I realised that it was almost my turn .

I hardly recognised my dear R. when he left his chair, but I could imagine that he was happy enough to be freed from most of the fur.

In between more customers entered the shop. What to do?

Robert asked if the young barber, almost still a boy, could cut my hair, but it was clear that the boy had no courage and in fact he flatly refused to do the job.

We paid and left.

What to do?

We walked somewhat and I felt the hot hair and the disappointment and in fact my strong own wish to have my hair cut.

We only saw a hairdresser, but we both knew that a good real short haircut was something to be done by a barber. We felt tired and looked for a restaurant for a drink. It was extremely hot and we entered a supermarket an almost surrealistic world in a country like Indonesia, but it was very cool.

Anyway it was clear enough that today a visit to a barber seemed to be impossible.

We ordered a coke in something like Mac Donalds and decided to return to the hotel.

Extremely tired we just started to sleep and awoke in the middle of the night by the sound/prayer from a nearby Mosque.

Suddenly we caressed each other and I touched the very short hair of R.

Almost immediately I started to make suggestions about my own haircut moving his hand across his head and immediately taking his hand across my own head. At the same time I suggested the buzzing sound of clippers. We made love and soon afterwards we were sleeping again till round about eight o’clock in the morning. Inside the room it was rather cool but outside we felt the pressing combination of high temperature and humidity. Robert left the hotel to look for a taxi to Brastagi, a town at the base of a vulcano, and in itself already a cool place. And indeed an hour later we left the crowded and very hot town .

Along the road we saw several barbers and Robert asked if I wanted to stop already, but the first and for the time being my only wish was to leave Medan as soon as possible.

Some time later the road seemed to go up and gradually it was cooler.

We had views of some forest and after 2 hours we came near Brastagi a small town, where Robert had spent some days 25 years ago.

We started to look for the hotel that we had chosen from the travel-guide and after a lot of questions incl. wrong answers we found the small neat hotel, paid the taxi-driver and enjoyed the fine climate.

We took a nice meal and then we decided to visit the town again to have a look at the local market etc. The owner of the hotel explained the use and payment of the local transport and soon we were dropped in town. We almost forgot that one of the reasons to visit the town was to look for a car to be rented some days later. We j walked along the main street, looked in an antique shop and talked somewhat with the owner who had been in west-Europe.

Then we continued and walked somewhat on the market. In between we looked if we saw a barber.

We had been walking criss-cross through the whole town and Robert feared already that a barber might be a rare person.

But when we entered a small street we noticed several signs with pangkas rambut(haircut) The first shop was more or less filled with men and we just walked on to make an inventory,

One of the shops, which looked reasonable enough had no customers but we walked farther and then, Robert returned to the shop without customers and I followed like a meek sheep.

Robert entered first and one of the two barbers, more or less sitting/hanging on the barber chairs, asked what we wished, probably assuming that Robert was the customer. To avoid problems Robert told me that I had to take a seat avoiding a refusal to cut my hair.

Robert explained that my hair should be cut and I observed the hesitations of the barber.

But Robert explained that I wished my air as short as a boy and anyway the barber, although showing signs of doubt, took a cape and wrapped it around my neck. I had told Robert already that I did not wish my hair as short as his hair at the sides and back, even though he assured me that two years ago it had been as short as that, even on top of my head, after our last visit to a barber in Sipirok.

Robert told me that he asked the barber to cut my hair like his hair, but all just somewhat longer. Out of a drawer clippers were taken and a comb. The barber stood there somewhat indecisive where to start, but then he placed the comb in front of my left ear, lifted hair with the thin comb and with a first movement most of my sideburn disappeared.

Nothing unusual because Roberts usually cut it as short as that.

I saw the concentrated way in which the barber worked and suddenly I relaxed, enjoying the careful way in which he continued to shave away most of the hair at the side of my head.

I suddenly realised that it was shorter than usual and wondered if it might be as short as Roberts’s hair at the sides of his head. Anyway I could hardly do anything. The barber took his time.

Whereas Robert usually makes a good but quick job of it, using clippers with an attachment, this barber did the whole job using clippers over the comb.

Soon all the hair at the left side of my head seemed to be cut off.

With some coarse movements the bulk of the hair on top of my head was already removed.

But the barber left it like that and just continued at the back.

I felt the comb close at the skull and felt how most of the hair disappeared and felt the comb already almost on my crown and the clippers quite near my skin.

I still could see nothing of it because the barber stood straight behind me, making it impossible to see the back of my head in the mirror behind me.

A man entering disturbed the silence of the shop. Probably he was wondering about the identity of the customer in the chair, male or female. There were some remarks but the barber did not react and continued his work, whereas the second barber started to cut the hair of the new customer.

A minute later three boys entered and for a moment I got the impression that they might make nasty remarks, but nothing happened and I smiled seeing Robert following my haircut with the utmost attention.

Some minutes later also the right side of my head seemed to be freed from almost all hair.

The barber lowered the chair and started to cut my hair in such a way that my whole head was still covered by short bristles. All was done in such a relaxed way that I enjoyed the whole haircut I wondered how long the barber worked on the transitions to the very short hair at the sides. Extremely careful the hair on top was cut again and again just leaving it a little bit longer in the frontal part. The already short bangs were hardly touched. The result was a perfect crewcut almost identical with and slightly longer than Roberts’s hair.

The barber was almost finished and asked Robert if it was okay, already understanding that communication with me seemed to be impossible.

I felt with my hand the back and sides of my head and had the feeling that it had been never shorter, but it looked perfect.

Robert paid and joked:" hi brother, we need a drink". Indeed I was very thirsty.

As usually, leaving the barbershop I had the feeling that the whole world seemed to be staring at me, but hardly anything like that happened.

Robert sighted:"that was a first nice stage"

I felt the back of my head and said but I don’t want it as short as yours. I saw his grin and wondered how many barbers we might visit and how much would be left after the last visit. At a small travel agency Robert bargained about the hire of a car for the day after tomorrow.

We left town and returned to the hotel.

I took a bath to remove the minute rests of hairs that still seemed to stick to my head.

Robert entered and we just felt each other’s bodies and of course it was a continuous caressing and kissing of each other’s head.

The feeling of my head almost free of hair was delicious or better. I don’t know how to express it.

Robert made a suggestive movement with my fingers along his head and then along my head and whispered still something to be shaven till there is sandpaper. I wanted to tell that this was already short enough, but knew that we only started a new adventure and more than before I enjoyed what happened.

We made love and later we took again a bath enjoying the hot water. We were sitting just very lazy and doing virtually nothing.

As usual, late in the afternoon darkness came and we enjoyed the start of the dark evening hardly or not disturbed by any mosquito.

We had again a quite good meal and enjoyed a delicious banana juice.

We sat some hours outside but were still tired enough to enjoy a good sleep.

In the middle of the night we made again love exploring that crazy hair fetish of Robert. I almost told him about the diskettes that I found in Holland and the story that I wrote, but at the very last moment I kept my mouth shut. The next morning we just were lazy again and it was already early afternoon when we made a walk through the forest at the base of the vulcano. We heard and saw some monkeys, admired very beautiful butterflies and walked some hours. We were extremely lazy but enjoyed those first days in the tropics.

The next morning our minibus came, a very old car with a slight problem. The driver seemed to have problems starting the car. That meant that during the rest of the day he never switched off the motor and was afraid to leave his car. Anyway early in the morning we left and enjoyed the week-market in Kabanjahe seeing the whole variety of agricultural products brought in sometimes from, for us, crazy distances. Later on we visited a nice traditional village and then we approached the area with mountain forest where Robert hoped to see a lot of birds.

There was still forest but most of the forest along the road had been cut already.

Hours later we came at a town, Sidikalang, and found a good room in a prestigious hotel -compound outside the town. Bargaining was not necessary. Just the threat to look for another hotel was enough to drop prices and soon we left our luggage and asked our driver to bring us in the nearby town. Robert paid the driver who intended to drive back to Brastagi and there we stood.

Robert wanted to hire a car for tomorrow’s continuation of the trip.

We were clearly the only foreigners in town and it was difficult to do as if nobody was staring at us. At first the search for a car seemed to be impossible, but then we were almost overwhelmed by all kind of persons willing to help.

We just took a seat in a small restaurant. Soon a real driver accompanied by a friend or brother or god knows who, started to offer his car and after some bargaining we agreed on a price and time of departure early next morning.

Robert looked somewhat exhausted but was proud as well that the whole thing had been organised comminicating in the Indonesian language. It was four o’clock and Robert declared that he was in for his first shave, remembering that he saw a barber in the main street, while we entered the town. We left the market area, suddenly we heard music and saw that part of a street was the place of a feast with traditional dancing. All the members of the party eemed to be dressed in traditional textiles which Robert identified as originating from another area much more to the south.

The nice thing was that the people were so busy with the whole happening that hardly any attention was paid to us, except comments from an old man, who indicated that the whole feast concerned a kind of reconciliation between members of a family.

Anyway it was quite fascinating, the more because Robert could see all kind of traditional clothes and their real cerimonial use.

We spent almost an hour there and forgot the barber. But at a certain moment there was a clear pause and we decided to go on, looking for a restaurant, because during the day we had eaten cream crackers, not willing to eat in very small restaurants along the road. We looked for the main road and suddenly saw a barbershop but the owner did not seem interested declaring that he wanted to close. Some shops farther another barbershop was still open and Robert asked if the barber had a good knife for a shave. When this was confirmed, but not very true as seemed later, we entered. Suddenly Robert informed me that the hair on top of my head seemed rather long compared with the sides. He asked the second barber if he could cut my hair and just ordered me to sit down.

It was somewhat unexpected, but I knew beforehand that this could happen.

Moreover I found my bangs now relatively long and wanted them shorter.

While Robert’s barber started to sharpen a real razor knife I was the first victim.

I was asked to sit down and a piece of cotton was wrapped around my neck.

The barber asked Robert again what should be done and the message was clear, the hair on top should be made shorter. More or less like his hair.

The barber took a coarse comb from the table and switched on electric clippers.

He studied my head, placed the comb under my bangs and with one movement my bangs were almost reduced too nothing.

I almost gasped because the whole wispy character of the front seemed to be reduced to a straight line. With the following movements the length of the hair was reduced to hardly half a centimetre. And I saw the white skin of my head much more clearly.

After the almost rough reduction of the length of my hair the barber started to repeat the movements more carefully and soon my hair looked almost like that of Robert. But that was almost history, because he seemed to have explained that he wanted his own hair also shorter. Meaning that the hair at the sides of his head was totally shaven away, whereas only some mm was left on top. After a quick haircut the barber continued with the real shave, whereas my haircut lasted also only some minutes. While I was feeling the minute hairs on top of my head, I saw Roberts face expressing that the knife was not very excellent, but anyway after much scraping and repeated trials to sharpen the knife Rob had his shave and even without any damage.

We left the barber and for the first time we heard some children saying;’ botak" Later Robert told that this meant bald head. Oh no, that’s not true I looked in bookshop in a dictionary to trace the meaning of that word.

Indeed I was feeling much balder but still about half a cm of hair covered my head, at least on the top. We were very hungry and happily we found a small restaurant where a good simple nasi goreng(fried rice)was prepared.

When we came outside the restaurant it started to be dark but more worse we discovered as well that a rain started.

It took some time but we found local transport back to the hotel and happily the rain stopped again and our very short hair was hardly wet when we reached the bungalow.

Early next morning, much earlier than we expected, our car was already available. The two grinning men of yesterday were in time, but we did not hurry. At long last we departed and soon we were on our way to Lake Toba.

It was the place where I situated the story that I called: "I feel the knife" and that I published using the pseudonym of R., Barber Jos.

The way down the slope of the enormous crater was spectacular and some hours later we arrived at the place of our detached hotel with the cosy bungalows along the lake.

We were quite nervous, because we feared that all of the bungalows might be occupied, but our fear was not necessary.

This was the start of a quite lazy week with a lot of swimming.

There were curious glances ,certainly related to our extreme short hair and once one of the guests told that she liked my extreme short hair but telling at the same time that she probably did not have the courage to such a thing.

One week later we decided to make a trip on the other side of the lake from Parapat, the place where we started our holiday 2 years ago.

Robert told that he wanted to take me for the final extreme haircut to Balige the place where 25 years ago he developed the idea to have a complete headshave, seeing a boy at the barber.

Two years ago he wanted to do a thing like that, but at that time he developed a lot of internal/intestinal troubles seeing more of the toilet in a restaurant than of the fascinating local market.

The next day we took the boat to the other side of the lake and walked to the travel agency where a car had been ordered.

We started our trip, but first I wanted to bring the postcards to the post-office.

We stopped there for a moment and while I organised the stamps etc Robert disappeared and I understood later that he just looked inside the nearby barbershop of the two girls where we had our second visit of a barber 2 years ago.

But anyway the visit to the barber was intended to be in Balige.

At ease we drove through the magnificent landscape and an hour later we were in Balige.

Like 2 years ago it was the day of the week-market and we walked around in the market area, where I often heard the botak (bald) but still was thinking that it might mean something like stranger.

In one of the corners we saw women sitting with bags and inside seemed to be rather big animals. Robert suggested that it might be dogs to be sold to the butchers. This was not true, because one of the women showed us the head of a pig, at the same time demanding that we should pay her for a picture.

We spent lots of time walking around and around and then we decided to look for a drink.

Outside the market we saw the small narrow barbershop but we decided that it was too crowded for a pleasant visit to the barber.

Robert remembered another barber and walking around somewhat more we discovered indeed that place, but also here customers seemed to be waiting and that meant that we cancelled this visit.

On the way back we visited several beautiful traditional villages and were very happy with this trip.

We decided to visit the male barber in Parapat where we started the hair adventure 2 years ago, but when we came near the shop the situation seemed to be different because we did not see any real barber. We walked back to the main road and entered the barbershop of the girls. Robert started to talk and told that he wanted a total headshave with the clippers, except for the short pointed beard that should stay.

During the haircut he started to talk with the girl, who still remembered our visit and promise to send a photograph taken at that time. The promise was renewed and of course the girl remembered that also I had been the "victim.

It meant that she was not surprised at all that I also "’ wanted ‘a haircut when she finished Robert’s haircut. Robert explained that my hair should be extremely short only leaving some mm’s. The hair on top should be only slightly longer, particularly more in front. I did not realise that this might mean a later opportunity for Robert taking me again to a barber to correct that too long part. The girl studied my hair and took the electric clippers, meaning that she probably should work much faster than two years ago when she cut all my hair with hand clippers over a thin comb.

For a moment she tried a number 2 attachment without much result.

She changed the attachment for a much thinner one and starting at the sideburns, which had been growing in the 10 days since my last visit to a barber, I saw a clear result because almost all of the hair disappeared hardly leaving more than 2mm. It was extremely short and even shorter than in Brastagi. It seemed that Robert had ordered that also most of the hair on top should have this length . When the girl worked at the backside I felt how she made one continuous movement going to my crown and even farther on top of my head,

A new customer entered and the girl made a step aside. At that moment I saw that the place/lane that had been shorn hardly showed any hair and seemed to be rather white.

But what to do?

I just enjoyed the feeling of the clippers and realised that within some minutes my hair should be gone almost totally.

This was the more clear when the girl made a shearing movement from the side across the back part on top of my head

Soon only somewhat longer hair was left in front The girl seemingly wanted to have a more accurate view of that part of my head and brought the chair with my body and head in the shaving position. With the bare clippers over the comb the transition was made to the bangs that seemed to be the longest part of my hair again. After a lot of cutting, also with the scissors, I was brought again in upright position and could admire the result.

I was almost bald, except for the quiff and a part of my head behind the quiff.

Touching my head with my fingers, I could feel that the rest of my head was covered by minute bristles. Not sandpaper but quite near.

When we left the barbershop I told Robert that this was the shortest ever, but he persisted that my hair in Sipirok had been even shorter. Anyway I had the feeling to be almost bald.

Walking back to the harbour I sometimes saw my reflection in windowpanes.

At the harbour I had the feeling that almost everybody seemed to look at me.

On the boat we saw two girls working at the travel agency and the two of them with, their thumb upwards,indicated that they found the haircut great. To my surprise nobody started to make nasty remarks about it.

Of course I heard again the term "botak’ and not yet realised that the local children just talked about the bald ones.

Anyway we returned at our hotel and looking in the window of our bathroom I saw my almost bald head, but liked my own face with the beautiful eyes.

Our neighbours a young Irish couple made compliments about my head and I realised that later that afternoon the girl, more than once touched her own longer hair.that reached her shoulder.

It was a curious couple hardly showing any affection and only later I understood that the girl met the boy on Bali and that they were travelling in the same direction. Just sharing rooms, but not much more than that. Later that day I heard the girl telling the boy that she wanted to have a haircut.

During the following days nothing happened however. Sometimes we talked together and that was when I discovered that she would be on the same flight to Singapore, about two and a half weeks later.

But our program was quite different. Robert and I were going to visit Sulawesi and from there he planned to go to east Java to visit some colleagues from the past, whereas I should go to Singapore from Sulawesi. I wanted to buy a digital camera with all the risks at the customs.

Some days later we left Lake Toba to go back to Medan. This time the climate was better and the air seemed to be drier.

We had a place in the same hotel and when I visited the toilet I saw myself in the mirror and suddenly I just told Robert that I did not like the quiff and the slightly longer hair behind it.

Of course R. had no objection at all to visit a barber the more because he wanted to have a shave himself, hoping that the long razor knife might be sharp enough. But like last time there was another priority, visiting antique shops.

This time we were much earlier and there was more time to visit another barber.

Anyway we walked a lot through Medan, having time enough for all kind of things, like looking for the old Dutch buildings.

We spent lots of time in the antique shops, but prices seemed to be almost higher than in Europe. During the afternoon it started to rain and I feared already that it might be impossible to visit a barber. It was curious because it was almost the first time in my life that I myself was the person that wanted to go to the barber.

I wondered what I wanted. I was very afraid to be totally bald but at the other hand I knew quite well that almost all of my head was already bald. In between I had looked in a dictionary and knew quite well that the word "botak" that I often heard when I passed Indonesian children or women, but also men, just meant bald head.

Late in the afternoon, it was almost dark already the rain halted but I feared that the barber might be an impossibility, remembering the one, some weeks ago, where the young boy seeing the glances of his friends, did not dare to cut my hair.

But anyway I did not want to go to a crowded barbershop.

Suddenly I remembered the small barbershop not far from the hotel, the first one that I saw two weeks ago. I told Robert, who seemed to know exactly which barber I was thinking about.

Some minutes later we were on our way. It was dark already and many shops seemed to be closing.

But Pangkas Rambut, Murni was still open and the barber was sitting on one of his chairs. Robert indicated that he wanted to have a shave and soon the barber tried to sharpen his knife, but with not too good results, but anyway Robert lost most of his beard.

I felt a much stronger pulse and was quite nervous when R. left the chair.

We doubted for a moment and Robert. indicated that I should have a sit.

R. seemed to tell the barber that I liked extremely short hair and that the last barber should have cut my hair in front shorter.

The face of the barber, a quiet kind middle-aged man, showed lots of doubts, but as often the wish to earn some more money was stronger than the wish to refuse. The barber looked in a drawer and took a comb and hand-clippers.

The comb was placed under the quiff and with some movement of the fingers the clippers worked through it and I felt the last "longer" hairs passing my nose.

The barber checked the length of the rest of the hair more backwards and pressing the comb against my skull he started to remove all the out -sticking hairs.

In fact he was finished with his quick job and I almost felt a disappointment and knew quite well that I had given a double message to R.

At one hand indicating that the hair should be not shorter except for the too long part and at the other hand it was clear that I, and of course he, were aiming for something still shorter.

There was an enormous silence in the shop.

Robert told the barber, as I heard later, that I liked an almost bald head, but that still a little bit of hair should be left. In fact he indicated the barber to go on.with the clippers suggesting that all my hair should be cut extremely short.

The barber placed a thin comb against my head a tried to remove some more hair, shaving over the comb. But there seemed no real result.

Then he took a decision that I had hoped for. He just placed the hand clippers against my skull at the place of those minute bristles, that once formed my side burns and started to shave them away.

I saw Robert gasping, but it was too late and the handclippers were already ascending on their way to the top of my head.

In fact there was not much difference.

Hearing no objection the barber cleaned the sides and the back of my head in the same way.

I felt the clippers quite high on the place of my crown.

The top was still covered and Robert who seemed to be afraid that I might be angry told that the hair on top should be left like it was.

This was really a high and tight as I had seen on one of the male hair sites.

In fact I wanted the rest of my hair removed as well but I was shocked as well that I was even balder than in Parapat.

The barber waited wondering if he should continue at the top, but realising that our first orders had been to make only the frontal part shorter he just stopped and neither R nor I asked him to go on.

The barber cleaned my head with a brush and asked if I was satisfied with the result.

I murmured something , that was not even clear to myself.

When we left I heard Robert tell that it was now even a little bit shorter than 2 years ago.

I felt the wish for a total headshave and I knew that my own strange confusing wishes were mixed with fear for the comments of friends and family in Holland.

With a shock I realised that 3 weeks from now I would be back in Holland.

What will be the length 3 weeks from now?

We looked for a restaurant and on the street I saw a lot of glances and more than once I heard "botak".

I went to a toilet and in bright light I studied my head in a mirror interrupted by 2 schoolgirl who at first reacted by telling that I was in the wrong toilet. But seeing my earrings and the rest of my body they realised that I was a woman. In broken English they told me that I looked cool, very cool.

In fact I could agree because, with my deep brown sunburnt head,I looked extremely well.

I left the toilet and we ordered some food.

We went back to the hotel and I kept my mouth shut about the fact that I was almost disappointed when the barber did not "shave"the rest of my hair.

The thoughts about the reactions at home had suppressed that wish for a short moment.

Early next morning, it was still night, we went on our way to the airport for the rest of our trip.

I expected a lot of glances, and of course there were some.

Curious enough people just talked to me only mentioning sometimes how daring I seemed to be with my haircut. Some hours later we were waiting at Jakarta airport. It was rather quiet and R. was caressing and kissing my head for a short moment when nobody seemed to look. But looking aside I met the grinning glance of a young Chinese woman with short hair.

But what was short compared with the extremely short hairs on top of my head.

I felt my head and thought about the next town, Makassar.

In fact we planned to stay there overnight, but thinking it over we decided that it might be better to hire a taxi bringing us to a town some 150 km’s to the north, from where it would be easier to go the next day to central Sulawesi.

It was almost five o’clock local time when we left the Hassanudin airport.

The sun was already rather low, but anyway during the first part of the trip we still could see a lot of the fascinating coastal area with fish ponds, rice fields, traditional houses and several times we had a nice view on the sea.

In fact there was a really very beautiful sunset. Some hours later we arrived at Pare Pare.

With some difficulty we found the hotel that we selected from the lonely planet.

After checking 3 rooms, there were airco’s but they did not work, we found a reasonable room. The only thing was that in the toilet 5 cockroaches sprinted away. To kill them?

We took a bath and decided to have a look in town. Soon we were in the market area and just when I indicated the restaurant where we might eat Robert disappeared in a hole in the ground.

It was an open only partly covered drain, but happily it was dry and even happier he didn’t break anything. With the help of some Indonesians I could pull him out and a shivering R. realised that this could have been the end of the holiday and already the thought being transported to a simple local hospital caused even more shivers.

In fact he had some grazes and a woman took him inside her house and after a bath, lots of tincture of Jodium was applied. A perfect Chinese medicine as the woman declared.

With wet clothes and looking somewhat crazy being already the baldest couple of Indonesia we entered at long last the restaurant and enjoyed a good meal with fresh sea fish.

Afterwards we returned to the hotel. On the way back I saw a small rather primitive barbershop and wondered if I could go there.

I brought R. to the hotel and told him that I wanted to buy some cream crackers in a nearby shop. I walked in the direction of the barber. Nobody seemed to be there. I stopped, glanced inside, but nobody to see. I continued on the way to the shop where I could buy the crackers and heard behind me a man calling, but I did not look back.

In the shop I bought some crackers and returned walking very slowly. The barber seemed to close his shop.

But seeing me he seemed to ask what I wanted. I did not know what to say, in fact knowing nothing of the Indonesian language.

I stood there for some moments and then I did the craziest thing: pointing at my head I said botak sekali , meaning:"very bald".

I entered the simple very small room and took a seat. The barber again a middle aged man took a cape from a cupboard and studied my head.

He took a straight razor-knife and because it was impossible to communicate with words he sent a lot of questionmarks in my direction.

With a deep sigh I tried to imagine what it might mean, but suddenly remembered that during the visits to the barbers on Sumatra R. was far from happy with the almost painful scraping.

I pointed at electric clippers hanging on the wall and the barber took them.

There was no attachment and with a shock I realised that within some minutes I should be really botak sekali, even though not smooth with a knife.

Seeing the sides and back of my head that had been done only one day ago the barber just started at once on top of my head.

When he placed the clippers on top of my forehead. the barber looked once more to be sure if this was what I wanted.

I confirmed it with a vague nod and saw the machine going backwards.

For a moment I could see nothing because hand and arm of the barber did not allow me to see the result.

The machine was already halfway when I saw that really something happened

I gasped even though I did order this myself.

Indeed all my hair disappeared leaving only vague impressions of points indicating the implant off my hair. I had been called botak, but this was even much more bald than I expected.

I shivered and for a moment the barber seemed to fear that there was a mistake.

He stopped but I could indicate that he might continue with some more movements.

Within a minute all the hair seemed to be removed.

However the barber did not seem to be finished, repeating again and again the movements of the clippers on my head.

Even sides and back were done again and it was clear that the barber did a good very rigorous job.

The barber stopped, took an old towel, from a thermosflask hot water and cleaned my head. I thought it was finished but it seemed necessary to give me an intense head massage.

I liked my image in the mirror and saw that even though I was bald it was nothing to be ashamed of. I paid the small amount, not yet a dollar and left the barbershop almost forgetting the crackers.

Coming back in the hotel I wondered if the people of the hotel might notice that I was totally bald now, but there seemed no reaction and maybe they did not expect this. Robert sat outside the room studying a travel guide and first did not look.

When he looked upwards he noticed my head and his mouth opened in disbelief.

He just said; "you should not have done this"; in fact it meant doing it without me.

But soon he just grinned and soon a we disappeared in the room.

It was for the fist time that I could really feel my own head and it had that curious rough feeling that R. often described as sandpaper.

A curious night followed. My dear husband seemed to be damaged more than expected and seemed to have strained some muscles and tendons, but he was still able to caress and kiss my head.

When I visited the toilet the cockroaches hardly disturbed me, when I stood a long time there thinking about the most extreme haircut of my life.

I knew I was crazy, but for the first time I really did not pity what I did and moreover I had been the one entering that small barbershop.

Only some hours later we switched off the light. Early next morning Robert left the hotel to look for a jeep that might bring us to the mountains where we spent most of the rest of our holidays.

A new other period started because my visit to the barber in Pare Pare. seemed to be the last one during this holiday, because I wanted to have again a short fur of bristles on my head, coming back in Holland. I can only say that the following two and a half weeks brought one of the best holidays in my life.

At he end of the holiday we were in Makassar where we spent one day at the beautiful harbour. Robert spent again a lot of time in antique shops buying some ceramics.

And then we went to the airport and I knew that at Jakarta airport we should go different ways.

It was very strange after such a long vacation, but I knew that we should see each other soon enough after 2 weeks. In fact I regretted already that I decided to spend some days in Singapore doing things alone.

In Jakarta Robert hurried to be on the last flight to Surabaya and I looked for my transit to Singapore. I looked around to find the transit desk.

Suddenly I saw on one of the boards that our flight was delayed for some hours meaning that I should arrive at midnight.

In fact not a big problem because I booked already a room in a Singapore hotel with the nice name the "new 7-th story hotel", a name seemingly dating from a time that the building had been the highest in Singapore.

Behind me I heard: "shit", followed by :" hi, how are you"

It was not necessary to turn to see who made this comment because I recognised the Irish accent of the girl that had been our neighbour at our nice small hotel near Lake Toba.

Of course I turned and looked where her friend was, but she told that she was alone because a quarrel finished their travelling together.

Her hair was still of the same length and for a moment I saw her staring at my own very short hair.

I grinned and said still the shortest in Indonesia although it’s already long now.

Of course she asked what I meant with my remark and I just honestly told that I had been totally bald.

We walked together to the transit desk and checked in together, meaning that we should sit also together in the plane.

We did not discuss my hair in any more detail but started to exchange details about our adventures of the last weeks since we left North Sumatra.

We talked a lot and later started to talk about her and my own study of history and soon we were discussing a lot of interesting things. It was nice because it seemed to take a very long time before our plane to Singapore really left Jakarta.

In the plane I asked where she planned to stay in Singapore, thinking about the difficulty that we should arrive after midnight.

I saw her hesitating, but she told that she wanted to go to a hostel.

Suddenly I realised that I wanted to take the girl to a barber. With a shock I realised that I had the intention to manipulate her.

One of main reproaches I often made in the past was that Robert manipulated me, seducing me to go to a barber, knowing very well what it meant for our sexual life. For a moment it confused me, because I didn’t have any sexual intentions concerning Iris.

Somewhat impulsively I offered her to share my room that had been booked in advance at a time that Robert still intended to come with me. Only a rather short time before we left Holland some old colleagues had invited him and of course I had said that he should be crazy not going there. Afterwards we totally forgot to change the booking, meaning that at the hotel they probably expected that two persons should occupy the room.

Don’t worry I said: "there are two single beds" The girl wanted to offer some money and I just refused suggesting that she could pay it off, inviting me for a cheap meal in an Indian restaurant . The discussion was closed and in fact I was happy to share my room, because I feared already arriving late in the night alone at the, for me, unknown hotel. In the plane Iris took a guide of Singapore from her hand luggage and together we studied the guide to see where the hotel should be.

In fact Robert told me not to worry about it because, as he told:"any taxi driver will know where it is". Robert did not like the town very much, certainly because the government almost totally destroyed the old Chinese neighbourhood.

As far as he remembered there was another area, called Little India, that should be still charming. I looked in the guide to see somewhat information about that area and according to the description it still was an area with a lot of small streets.

It was even mentioned that there were still street barbers(we didn’t see any) and I suddenly thought about Robert who should have found that a nice opportunity for a shave. I suddenly thought about my last visit to the barber in Pare Pare and could not suppress a grin. Iris asked if I saw a joke, but I could only confess that the remark about street barbers was quite curious. And that I almost liked to experience the atmosphere of an Indian barber.

I mentioned suddenly that at Lake Toba I heard her talking about a haircut and asked if she ever had her hair very short.

To my surprise she blushed and told she had been quarrelling about it with the boy who had been with her at that time.

In fact she liked to try a short haircut.

I looked at the fine freckled face and the reddish hair and wondered if the very short hair should make her boyish.

She seemed to read my mind, but I told her that a thing to do in case of doubt was to cut the hair in stages.. I told that even I had visited several barbers, because in the beginning I could not imagine that my hair should be as short as Robert’s hair.

I mentioned that I was willing to accompany her, because, up till now the only thing on my program was buying the digital camera, and that was mainly a matter of looking for a good place to bargain. While I knew exactly which model I wanted to buy.

Iris confessed that she hardly thought about anything and being in Singapore seemed most of all a matter of killing the time before going back to Ireland. "Lots of things to do there", I remarked," and time enough to look for a barber".

"But of course, only if you really like to try it."

I stopped talking and studied .for some time the travel guide.

Even at that time in the night you get a meal in the plane and for some time we did not talk.

We had to fill in a paper for the immigration and when she wrotew down her birth date I realised that I was almost 15 years older. How many persons should say that my age of 39 was too high for frivolous haircuts? I thought about the remarks about my short hair that I got in the past. At first any nasty remark had hurt me, but soon I developed another attitude and just realised that I could do what I liked myself. But even that was not really true, because I never started with short hair like this myself till I met Robert.

I wondered where Robert might be and realised that probably he might be in a hotel in Surabaya, from where he should continue the next day to another town. For a moment I felt lonely, but I knew that we were separated for only some weeks.

Suddenly I felt that the plane shuddered and I realised that within 20 minutes we should be in Singapore. It was already night when we arrived and in fact it was quite silent in the enormous buildings of the airport. Soon we were on our way to our luggage and within 20 minutes we were outside looking for a taxi. I looked for my Singaporean money.

The Chinese taxi driver was really very Chinese pronouncing all the rrr as lll and for a moment we were giggling somewhat impolite, but I knew quite well that our ability to learn and speak one or another Chinese language was probably extremely poor.

Half an hour later we stopped at the hotel that seemed to be lying alone on a grass field.

We checked in and to our surprise we entered one of the oldest lifts in the world.

A classic one with nice doors and a real old grinning Chinese lift boy, who even offered us a bowl with cold water, when we left at the 6th floor.

We entered the room that seemed rather hot, but within some minutes the airco started to develop a freezing wind. To our luck it was possible to modify the thing to a more acceptable level.

Happily there was the possibility to prepare some tea, but soon I felt very tired and took a bath excusing myself that I walked around naked, but I was too lazy to dress myself in a more decent way.

I entered my bed and saw Iris in the bathroom standing in front of the mirror. She did not realise that I could see her studying her face. She pulled her hair tight to the back, probably wondering how a face almost without any hair might look.

She stood there rather long and I felt a certain embarrassment to observe her like this.

With a grin she took her hand from the hair and I knew that with some small assistance this girl might be as shorthaired as I.should suggest.

Suddenly she realised that the door was not closed, but I looked already in another direction.

Some minutes later she came back and we wished each other good night . A strange night followed. I was dreaming a lot and I really mixed up all kind of things, entering lots of barbers with Robert, Iris and police accusing me of indecent behaviour seducing young girls.

At long last I slept and this time my sleep was not interrupted by mosques but finished by the sound of a lot of traffic outside.

Iris was already awake and asked if maybe she should buy some bread in a nearby shopping centre.

But it seemed easier to have a breakfast in one of the nearby streets.

I took a bath, dressed myself and looked for my biggest earrings. I always like to wear them, the shorter my hair the bigger the rings.

We left the building and soon saw a lot of small simple restaurants.

In fact I wanted to order my usual fried rice but suddenly I just ordered some western breakfast with delicious small fresh breads.

I told Iris that I wanted to have a look in some shops for a camera but that I was ready to visit Little India. We did not mention her hair again, but it was clear enough that both of us thought about the haircut.

We walked through some of the shopping centers, in fact collections of numerous small shops.

The temperature was often horrible low. I wondered how soon I should catch a cold.

I checked already some prices of cameras, and soon enough I discovered that with some tough bargaining I should be very successful.

In one of the basements we saw some hairdressing saloons but it was not what I liked, moreover they were already crowded.

We left the building and I just halted a taxi to bring us to Little India.

I had the feeling that the driver was driving in a wrong direction trying to extract some more money from foreigners, but he assured me that it was only a matter of one direction traffic and that the price should be no more that 3 Singapore dollar.

When we arrived the meter was already on 3 1/2 dollar but he did not want to have more than the promised 3 dollars.

Outside the car we were in another world with lots of small shops, many shops for tourists but also all kind of other shops.

Indeed lots of Indians were walking around or the owner of a shop. But also here 2/3 of the people seemed to be Chinese.

What a difference with Indonesia.

Here hardly anybody seemed to notice us, except for some shop owners, who reacted to our glances inside a shop by inviting us, but otherwise nobody else paid any attention.

We saw several temples and in most of the Chinese shops small shrines with burning candles could be seen.

Of course there were all kind of interesting restaurants.

At a small Chinese restaurant we took a coffee.

Suddenly I heard Iris saying no street barbers to be seen. Sometimes those writers of guides just seem to copy other older guides.

I asked if she was still interested in a haircut and she just nodded in such a way that the answer was clear. We didn’t discuss any details of her haircut.

We left the restaurant and continued our walk. Suddenly we saw a shop with all kind of wigs and I just joked you can buy one if you don’t like your haircut. We just stood in front of the shop and looked inside. I don’t know why but Iris entered the shop and I just followed.

Almost all of the wigs were black-haired and most of them with long hair.

I just tried one of the wigs and suddenly recognised myself 20 years ago. The shop owner who had seen my very short hair started to promote the wig but just caused a lot of giggles.

Iris seemed more interested in a small collection of shorthaired models and tried to hide her red hair under it. In fact it was not really short hair and the change from red hair to almost black hair was quite surprising. I heard her murmur: "that could be a possibility"

We tried some more wigs and I even tried some of the shorthaired wigs that to me seemed still longhaired but to be honest I was charmed by one imitating a short bob. After some time we left the shop on our way to a barber? Suddenly I saw the signs of a barbershop and mentioned it to Iris, not necessary as she had seen them as well.

At that moment a white young man left the barber, his head totally smooth and seemingly just shaved. We stood there looking at the boy who just seemed to touch his head.

I suddenly remembered my visit to the barber at Pare Pare and remembered quite well how I had been doing it like this even though my head still felt like sandpaper, whereas maybe still a mm of hair seemed to cover my head at that time.

A sudden urge to go inside the barbershop entered my whole head and even my body reacted in a curious way. I almost forgot Iris.

I just walked to the entrance, but no, I didn’t enter and just stood there looking inside.

It was a very big barbershop, maybe 10 or 12 barber chairs and at both sides walls totally covered by enormous mirrors.

3 of the chairs were occupied and it was clear enough that this was an Indian barbershop with a lot of fierce looking middle-aged or even older Indian barbers. For one or another reason it looked an ultimate male world and I wondered how the barbers might react when we should enter this shop.

Should they send us away, just unwilling to disturb their customers or maybe it just did not matter because they should be just interested to earn money.

I realised that my planning was to return with a short fur of bristles in Holland. A visit to a barber should mean again an almost bald head.

I came back in reality when iris asked: ‘ shall we enter". I did not give any answ,r but opened the door and entered.

A man, probably the owner, asked what we wanted and I just pointed at Iris and told that she wanted to have a very short haircut.

I saw the barber frowning and expected already the suggestion that we should go to a hairdressing saloon. I just added : ‘she wants to go to a good barber because they are the best for very short hair" . The man grinned and said; we are indeed very good barbers.

He shouted a name and an old barber with a curious potbelly came and asked Iris too follow him.

In fact he was wearing very strong spectacles and I could only hope for Iris that they were meant to have a good view on her head.

He seemed to ask Iris what she wanted and she just seemed to indicate that she wanted it more or less like me, but as far as I understood a little bit longer in front with a kind of quiff.

The chair next to the one where Iris was sitting was empty and I just took a seat there to see what happened. In fact it was quite simple.

The barber took big electric clippers with an attachment and just lifting strands of hair he removed them, probably too lazy to use scissors.

He started at the back and I saw the strands tumbling down whereas Iris could not see anything, but that was a mistake because soon enough she could see the whole happening in the mirror behind her.

I noticed hardly any emotion and saw only her intense stare at the mirror, following what happened.

Soon enough the barber started at the sides to be followed by the area at the top.

Some moments later her head was covered by c. 1cm long bristles; still roughly cut, but the whole look was already charming. And for the first time the almost frozen stare changed in a satisfied grin.

The barber started to work more careful, and soon the lower parts of the sides and back were shorter with a nice transition to the rest of the hair.

The barber worked at ease and I just started to study my own hair in the mirror.

I did not see the owner until the moment that he asked if I wanted also a new haircut.

With his experienced eyes he must have noticed that the last time had been an almost complete headshave with the clippers.

The question surprised me somewhat, but I did not refuse and within a seconds I heard myself say:"yes" Out of the dark came my question: "what will it cost to have a headshave with the knife?"

My question surprised him, but also myself.

Just 10 dollars was the answer, do you want it?

There was a sudden darkness, confusion and in fact a mixture of feelings. At one hand I wanted to have some hair on my head coming back in Holland.

But there was also that picture of me with the cute wig with the bob hair.

"Now, what do you want", was the repeated question of the barber.

My heart seemed to burst and I had strange feelings in my stomach and in fact I had the feeling that I started to tremble.

For some seconds I was still frozen, but then I said yes. I forgot Iris and just stared like a dream at the woman opposite me who seemed to be a stranger.

Suddenly I was back in the story that I wrote some months ago as a joke imitating barber Jos.


It seemed that a story repeated itself, not in Sumatra where I situated the story, but here in Singapore.

I started to sweat, wondering if I was dreaming at this very moment, but pinching the skin of my knee under the cape that was placed by a barber. I knew quite well that I was in Little India, together with an Irish girl in an Indian barbershop.

The barber who was going to shave my head was a strange looking guy, His hair or better the thin rests were henna-coloured and above his nose was a big red spot. The instructions, given by the boss seemed to be clear enough.

I saw the clippers, I heard the humming sound and in a dream I saw that the man was shaving my head like three weeks ago. For a moment I saw the small barbershop in Pare Pare, but here I was sitting in a clear big barbershop. In the mirror I saw myself again almost bald, but it was only a preparation for the shave that should follow.

The barber walked away and came back with a towel, very hot and very wet. The barber started to massage my head during some minutes and inspected my head. He walked away and came back with a brush and a cup with foam.

The brush was used to cover my head with a lot of white foam, again a massage followed, the foam was removed and for a moment I feared that he had applied a creme with which my hair was removed for ever.

But no, again he started to move the brush on my head. This time he looked for the razorknife and I saw that it seemed to be the modern version, using dispensable knife. But anyway it looked like a real long razor knife with which Robert had been shaven some weeks ago. With a grin I realised that he should reproach me again that he did not share this crazy experience.

At the same time I realised that this was my own initiative and that I seemed to develop my own hair fetish.

I expected a long headshave with a barber taking his time, but to my surprise the barber placed the knife quite quick on my head and with rather long strong movements he denuded whole areas. I almost tried to evade the knife, afraid that he might cut my head. But he had a firm grip on my head and the better, he was an expert, but of the devilish type.

With some movements the whole left side was totally bald.

Our devil disappeared at the backside and with my head pressed on my bosom I felt long movement from my crown to my nape. I was almost disappointed hoping for a more careful and slower working man. But to be honest, in fact he worked extremely careful.

The right side followed, and long scraping movements were made from the front of my head near the former bangs to the back.

Within some minutes I saw a very very bald head. I fact the barber was not yet satisfied and checked with his soft fingers if there was still something rough left. It meant that again my whole head had been covered by foam and now more slow, and moving the knife in other directions, my head was shaven again and again.

It was unbelievable to see that the skin of my forehead just continued without any boundary in the skin on my head. I had been looking in a trance and only when I heard the woww of my neighbour the Irish girl I returned in reality. She had a nice crewcut with a little bit longer hair in front. And stared at me still sitting in the chair.

She stared in disbelief and I saw a hesitation on her face. Her barber had made quite a nice job of the haircut giving her an unbelievable short haircut, but I knew what she felt and I saw the lips of the barber who discovered perfectly well what lived in the head of Iris.

It was silent in the shop and I heard the boss communicating with Iris ‘barber.

He came nearer and judged my head and then the inevitable question came if Iris was satisfied with the haircut or maybe?.

It was silent again and we looked at her face, but the answer was clear already.

The old barber took again his clippers and this time he worked extremely fast and within seconds I saw a bald Iris and a minute later a white cap of foam covered her head.

I felt guilty, but at the same time I knew this was a mature girl.

The barber was working much slower and I was almost jealous.

5 minutes later we left the shop, two bald women. We returned to the wig-shop and bought the rather cheap bob-haired wigs.

For a moment we doubted we might use them already but a temperature of 32 centigrade and high humidity were not very stimulating and why to be afraid.

To be honest this time there was a lot of attention, but what does it matters.

We walked around and I suddenly noticed an internet-cafe and checked my hotmail. There was a message from Robert, indicating that all was well. He had been to a barber for a total headshave.

I sent him the shortest message ever:" I also".

I hope that you enjoyed this story, a lot of facts and a little bit fiction.

Back in the Netherlands my hair is growing again because a wig is nothing for me. I am used to feel the wind through my short crewcut and such a headshave is once, but never again?

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