Home » Location » Barbershop » The Baldness bug (Part 2)

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In fact, the mop on my head had really nothing to do with my personality and my character. Even though I liked it a lot, my colleague was right, in that the huge amount of time spent with my extremely long mane gave me no pleasure at all. Why then wasn’t I as ready to get rid of my hair as my opponent? Why not? Couldn’t I or didn’t I really want to do it? The more I thought again about the subject I got into my strange mood, into these changing feelings that oscillated between a great fear of loosing my splendorous mane and a tempting love for adventure. Gazing at the screen of my computer, I secretly imagined myself sitting on a barber chair while my beautiful hair was mercilessly being cut off with a noisy clipper and enjoyed hereby the crazily opposing emotional peaks that flashed through my mind. Yes, just the idea that my feminine pride, which I had maintained and cared for, almost like a maniac, for decades would shortly be removed with a few flicks of the wrist, was something electrifying, almost erotic. Immediately I had to think again of this mysterious elegant bald woman with her dubious "hair free institute", and about her idiotic "bug theory". Such rubbish; how could someone catch such a peculiar mental illness just through optical contact – and moreover just the thought that such an ugly baldness would propagate among women was absolutely ridiculous, and neither was I the type of woman who would like to spend the rest of her life exhibiting a bald pate.

Just as my common sense had again put my feet on the ground, a crazy idea flashed through my head, which stimulated the secret gambler inside of me. Precisely, I just would play along up to a certain point in this crazy scene and get some positive kicks out of it. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Charged full of tension and curiosity, I pretended to be exhausted, and that I just had to take I coffee break. As expected, the reaction of my colleagues was under control, and so I hurried out of the office, to get my little game started. After making sure that I was completely alone in the lunchroom, I fished my cell phone out of my handbag, and dialed the number of the crazy hair free institute.

"Hello?" answered a pleasant deep feminine voice at the other end of the line and in my mind I saw the pretty face of the beautiful bald woman.

"Hello I wanted to make an appointment. If possible for today," I said in a busy tone of voice, and had to concentrate fully so that I would not stammer out of sheer nervousness.

"An appointment? By your question I assume that you still aren’t a member, right?" "Yes," I said hesitatingly, because of the very friendly voice at the other end, my idea of having some excitement by feigning interest didn’t seem so clever anymore. After all, if I couldn’t cope any more with my confusion, it wasn’t this woman’s fault. Shouldn’t I better hang up?

"Here it’s like in a club. You pay a monthly fee and get permanent service, whenever you feel like it, one, two or three times a week; and most interesting for you, is that the first treatment, consultation included, is absolutely free. But before we agree on an appointment, I’d like to know how you got to know about us."

Totally bewildered over her quick question, I answered with the absolute truth, and felt rather silly, while there was a short pause. "Oh yes, now I remember you!" she continued in a euphoric tone.

"Well, you certainly didn’t put up much of a fight against the bug." she jokingly said and added to her acid statement, that anyhow was better to give in to the craving, without putting up much resistance. I had no answer to that, so I resorted to listening. "Magnificent, then I shan’t keep you any longer in tenterhooks! If you want today in the afternoon, we can rid you of your shaggy burden. How about around five?"

"OK!" I replied dazedly, although I was aware that I should have ended this silly call by now at the latest.

"Great, I’m really happy to be able to shave a full head of hair again. You’ll see it will be the event of your life!" Her voice happily said into my ear, and I felt how my face turned red with embarrassment.

"Then spend your last hours with your splendorous hair in peace. Moreover, look as often as possible into the mirror, so that you can properly say goodbye of your old self. Because when you get home today in the evening, your old image won’t exist anymore!" she philosophically said in a friendly voice, and when I replied to her final question, if I needed any additional information, with a bewildered no, she ended the call by saying "Then I’ll see you at five. Bye."

Slowly I returned from my trance to the reality and was ashamed of my idiotic behavior. After all, I was no longer a child, to get on other people’s nerves with impertinent phone calls for fun. What was I thinking?

On the other hand, I have to admit that during the conversation I was feeling a wonderful and exiting tension.

"Well you didn’t want it any other way, you got into this mess, then you’ll have to take the consequences and say goodbye to your splendorous hair!" My own imaginary voice said sarcastically to me inside my head, and when I even found the thought somehow erotic, I realized that I actually could go to this institute today in the afternoon, in about four hours and get shaved completely bald, my knees got rubbery and I replaced the cell phone in my handbag.

A rasping recording announced that the subway would arrive at my station in a moment, and I slowly went to the exit. It was a quarter after four and a beautiful long weekend awaited me. In spite of this pleasing outlook I didn’t feel any relieve, this stupid phone call was still turning around in my head and I couldn’t rid myself of the sensation that I had gotten myself into a really awkward situation. In the beginning, it was just a game meant to stimulate my fantasy, without any real consequences. Now, I was feeling the desire to go ahead one further step.

Evidently, I initially had lost the control over my common sense and was now craving like a compulsive gambler, to take this matter to the limit, but where was the definite limit? If I followed the impulse of my rapidly splitting personality; and continued two further stations to the place of my carving, to get an additional emotional kick by looking at the mysterious institute from the outside. Who could assure that my gambling instinct would then be satisfied and that I would be able to put an end to all this craziness and go home? Wouldn’t there be rather the danger that my curiosity would take me further ahead, across the limit?

The metallic squeak of the brakes tore me out of my inner duel and I made an irresolute start towards the door, while the train was slowing down and entering the station. When I realized the next moment that I was the only passenger in this car, who was going to get off at this station, I suddenly got an idea, which made my reasonable ego shudder. I would only get off the train, if the door was opened by someone else, otherwise I would stay in my seat and continue in my role of a soon to be bald woman. My heart began to beat loudly, and I got into a panic, when I noticed that there hardly were any people at the station and therefore the likelihood of being saved by chance from my hairless destiny was very slight; I fearfully combed my long hair with my fingers and took a deep breath. As soon as I felt the silken smoothness of my abundant and long hair, my inner tension exploded, and my self-preservation instinct got me to hasten towards the exit. Just at that moment, the departure signal rang and as soon as I grabbed the door handle with a trembling hand, the train started with a slight jerk. Shit! With a large lump in my thr
oat, I saw my reflection in the door window, while the train was driving through the dark tunnel. In front of me, I saw an attractive woman in the best age, with conservative clothes, in a perhaps somewhat too simple tan suit, whose dress duly covered her knees. I also saw a delicate face, whose large eyes were looking for help with finding a solution. Her most noticeable feature was her black lustrous mass of curls that fell onto both shoulders of the conservative blazer of my office uniform and managed to convey pure feminine erotic.

No, how could I have ever conceived the crazy idea of getting rid of my wonderful hair? What devil had possessed me to let myself to be enthralled by such an idiotic game? Not even in theory would I contemplate in the future even cutting off one single inch of my precious hair, much less shaving it completely off. This was the end. I really was fed up with my crazy ideas, get off this train as soon as possible, return home and use the free days ahead to get back to my senses.

Embarrassedly, I sneaked in front of the very modern uninformative mirrored shop front, and was constantly comparing the address on the bald woman’s business card, with the one that was displayed over the entrance. Although when I carefully got near the entrance there appeared as if by magic the "Free Head and Free Mind" lettering projected by a laser on the mirror door, I didn’t dare to get nearer to the door and turned away fearfully. I really only intended to cancel my appointment in person and to apologize for my silly behavior over the phone. Although I considered this step as something very simple and sensible, I realized now that I really was much too cowardly for this. Perhaps also because I really knew, that I only would be able to control my playful hair fantasies with a great effort, and that I couldn’t consider my state of my mind as stable or even resistant. Anyhow, my reason had finally won and if I really should feel the need, then I could do it over the phone; but now I really ought to get quickly away from here.

"Why so shy? You came just at the right time," a well-known voice said behind me and I felt numb. "Hello, by the way, my name is Carol the bald woman in front of me said with a friendly smile when I had turned around, giving me her delicate hand.

"My name is Lisa" I managed to answer nervously and shyly returned her greeting. Before I was able to come to a decision, she guided me into the shop. Inside there was a wonderful relaxing atmosphere which suddenly relieved me of all my nervousness; and when the door closed silently behind me, it seemed as if I had not only left behind me the whole world, but also some part of my personality. I stood there as in a trance and tried to think clearly. Impossible, my sudden inner restfulness puzzled me somewhat, but otherwise I was feeling quite comfortable.

In the end, I had overstepped the notorious limit. Was I now in danger of letting myself be carried away by my confused psyche into an act of madness? I was in some kind of waiting room with subdued blue light from an indirect overhead illumination; there was just a small round table with two chairs. Low volume classical background music was playing and I could hear a monotonous splashing from a small indoor fountain that was in a corner between the leaves of some tropical imitation plants. Then I was already being pushed into the next room, where a woman with her head covered in white foam was sitting in a large barber chair and who greeted me silently by winking.

"Sit down here, exceptionally and against all rules you may look". Carol commanded briefly, before I was pushed with gentle forcefulness into an armchair. I glanced wordlessly at the bald and sunburned woman as she returned to her client. She was wearing a very daring, short-sleeved white mini coat made from such a thin synthetic cloth that her bra straps were clearly showing through. Her well-formed legs were visible up to the start of her buttocks, and in contrast with her clothing, on her feet she was wearing heavy leather slippers like those that usually are worn by very strict nurses. I really didn’t have time for any further observation of her ugly footwear, because my attention was caught by a razor, which suddenly was in her hand. Wordlessly her client closed her eyes and leaned her head sideways and the razor was at her temple and started shaving quickly but very carefully a wide path through the white foam. Only the velvety bare scalp remained.

I was overcome by shock and fascination at he same time, and although I clearly was feeling a strong urge to escape immediately, something inside me made me stay motionless in the armchair and watch the next razor stroke. The only sounds I could hear were the scraping of the razor against the scalp and the lustful breathing of the woman being shaved, almost like a cat purring. Was I dreaming? No, definitely not, I could witness how real the sharp steel of the razor blade continued denuding her scalp path after path, leaving behind a bare and silky smooth scalp. After finishing with one side, she shaved the other side, then the neck and finally the top. Within a short time, she was completely bald.

I was speechless and my mind somehow seemed to have left me, when Carla’s voice interrupted my trance by telling me "Now it’s your turn." I was shocked, because suddenly I was too aware of the meaning of her words. I almost managed to say a loud "NO!", but then I fortunately realized the real meaning of the attractive head shaver’s statement. I was offered the honor of polishing the freshly shaved head with oil. Obviously she didn’t have to ask twice, as this was my opportunity to feel such an hairless head. I put some sweetly, delicately smelling almond oil drops on to my hands, and filled with curiosity and thrill, I stepped behind the freshly shaved one. Immediately at the very first contact, the realization flashed through me, of how erotic and fantastic such a silky smooth bald scalp felt and I had a hard time controlling my breathing. Now I fully understood what Carol was meaning when she mentioned the "feeling of freedom" and in my subconscious, there began to grow a powerful desire, strongly opposed to my common sense, and soon I was getting more than scared of this desire. What was I doing here? I only wanted to tell Carol, that although I theoretically agreed with her preference for bald headed women, I would never take that step. I was here in the lion’s cave and massaging the silky smooth scalp of a relaxed breathing woman who was happily bald, and for starters didn’t even know what was going to happen to me, to my thoughts, to my reason and above all to my wonderful hair.

Shouldn’t I simply try to speak with Carol about my problem, so that we together could find some way out of my dubious misery? After all, surely she wasn’t a heartless monster. Just the opposite, she even was nicer than I would have preferred at this moment. The fact was that I somehow had to explain to her that what I really wanted, was to keep my hair and in all its length; but was that, what I really wanted? Wasn’t I feeling with each and every breath, that I wanted to rid myself of all the social conventions prescribed for women? Yes, precisely, I really could now get Carol to amputate the most noticeable part of my femininity, by sacrificing my long mane, and thereby free my own personality; but if this were a sacrifice, wouldn’t my freedom be left somewhere along the road? Wasn’t this item the contradiction as such, or just the paradox of this whole issue?

Seeking help I looked into the mirror and let my eyes wander between my heavy curls and the client’s smoothly shaved scalp. No, it was out of the question, I wouldn’t replace my long hair with such a smooth fragile and defenseless nothingness; or maybe should I? Damn, what shall I do? It seemed that now I was even more confused than befor
e; or in a more miserable mood. Because at this moment I really wasn’t confused anymore, and would have sat just now in the barber chair and enjoyed the shearing of my fabulous mane, getting a silky smooth bald scalp. Without any doubt I had to leave immediately, otherwise…

"It’s a darn exiting feeling, isn’t it?" purred Carol, while she was coming very near me and then passed her slender fingers testing through my abundant mass of curls. I stood there frozen, lovingly stoking the client’s silky smooth scalp, and felt that I was quickly loosing the control of my body.

"But surely the most exiting thought is that in a little more than half an hour, you are going to have such a mirror smooth scalp on your own head" she added in an euphoric tone of voice and then signaled her client with a quick wrist movement that her treatment had ended for today. The hairless beauty got up immediately, thanked me for the lovely head massage with a conspiratorial wink and went with Carol into the front room. After some brief murmuring that came through, I heard the closing of the door to the street and I saw my alleged shave master again.

"I’d say it would be best if you’d undress up to your undergarments, because with your abundant hair, your first shearing is going to leave quite a mess on the floor!" she happily chatted, as if the forthcoming would be the most common matter in the world, and herewith conveyed the impression that my opinion wouldn’t matter anymore.

"But I really didn’t want to…" I tried to say, but before I managed to emit the slightest sound, my throat closed and I stayed silent. Sooner than I was able to try again, Carol had taken off my blazer, placed it carefully on a hanger and signaled with a gesture, that she now would take my skirt too. Suddenly my nerves busted without any previous warning in a great euphoric wave, I quickly slipped out of my skirt, without even opening its buttons, and then proceeded to unbutton my blouse with trembling fingers. A short moment thereafter, all my garments hung on the coat rack, and I stood there, strangely surprised, just in my underwear and my shoes. Even my comfortable sandals were replaced by light grey cloth slippers for guests. Amazed by the complete collapse of my self-preservation, I sank into the barber chair without offering even the merest token of resistance. Not until I was being covered by a light blue barber cape, I somehow awoke out of my lethargy and tried to find some help by looking at my completely nonplussed mirror image.

Even so I continued to obey my dominant opponent and dutifully bent my head forward, so that she could flip my fabulous mane from the neck over my shoulders and close the cape with its Velcro fastener tightly around my neck.

"Where wood is planed, shavings fly — where heads are shorn hairs fall!" Carol said jokingly while she was checking that there wasn’t any hair strand trapped under the barber cape’s collar, and therefore would escape her radical shearing.

Undecided I leaned against the chair’s backrest and stole a fearful glance at the mirror. The sight of the enormous amount of hair on my head, with thick curls cascading onto my lap, again suddenly awoke a huge fear of loosing my hair; my common sense took control again. Where did I end up? In a horror film? Had I got completely insane? With a single blow, I realized the full consequences of my idiotic action and I jumped out of the chair and walked with my slippers towards the exit, without having a plan of what I was going to do next.

"Yes, yes, I can very well remember this terrible indecision." Carol said with a laughing voice, and just stayed patiently behind the barber chair. Perplexed I halted my escape to nowhere and turned embarrassedly around.

"Take your time and collect all your thoughts, before the sharp and hungry blades of my blue monster come into contact with your thick mop. "With a 99% of certainty it’s surely going to be the first and last time, that it will have the pleasure of ridding you of your hair." spoke the disastrously lovely contracting party with a bubbly voice, and showing me with pleasure, the dark blue hair-cutting machine she held in her right hand.

At first her relaxed response confused me very much; but why? Had I expected a wild persecution? Or even being tied up, gagged and then shaved forcefully? Why was I holding this very nice woman accountable for this completely absurd situation? After all, I had made the appointment myself, came here, and up to now had played the role of the victim. So far, no one had forced me to do anything, or tried to convince me, and no one would force me to do anything I didn’t want to do myself. Therefore no one but I was responsible. I had complete control over my actions during the next few minutes, although I didn’t have many choices. I could either allow my fearful common sense to take control, and continue with my life as before; with long hair, feminine and socially perfectly satisfactory, or happy and inconspicuous.

On the other hand, there was the possibility of succumbing to this great and baffling force, to this mysterious drive from inside of me with a completely irrational and crazy action, because as such I certainly would have to classify the merciless shaving my head, in order to plunge into the uncertainty of a very tempting future. Even without having to think about it, I knew that I wouldn’t be able even to get to the start of a decision in the next few hours. My mind was trapped in a labyrinth of the ultimate indecision.

Seeking help, I looked into Carol’s grinning face. "Well at least it’s a good thing that you didn’t go out on the street in this outfit!" she cynically observed, winking at my pitiful figure, and hereby helped me to relax a bit. When I imagined how the people would have stared at me, if I had walked on the streets, clad in a barber cape reaching to my knees and in grey cloth slippers, I couldn’t avoid an embarrassed smile and I got to feel quite nutty.

"Oh Carol, I just don’t know what to do?!" I sighed partially questioning, partially analyzing and made eye contact with Carol who was still grinning.

"Simply listen to the voice of your heart, and don’t do what you should do according to your rational thinking, but that what you really want to do!" she suggested with a gentle voice.
I just had started to act on this wise idea, when the unequivocal answer hit my consciousness like a hammer, the accumulated tension of the last minutes burst into a seemingly endless howling spasm.

"But my beautiful long hair" I stammered in a crying voice, and looked imploringly at Carol, probably in the secret hope that she would relieve me from the decision I just had reached.

"If it’s hair or scalp, it’s really of no consequence my dear, so let’s start and spare us the unnecessary bawling. Because there is one thing that I can assure you, that in three or four months you’ll only smile at what happened today!" spoke Carol; and herewith cut clearly the last thread of my hope. As I realized now, she was going to cut off my feminine head decoration at scalp level, starting directly at the hairline. I began to cry again; but this time they were the tears of the rigorous sacrifice. Although my hair was still attached to my head for the moment, it had become a thing of the past; and the earthly image of my unavoidable future was smiling at me in the person of my courteous and patiently waiting hairless shave-master.

"That’s enough Lisa, let’s get your hair on the cool and hard tiled floor of reality!" spoke the barberette and I returned on noiseless soles, without any further resistance, to the barber chair, this surely had so far been the most difficult walk of my life. In any case, it would be the la
st one, on which my long mane would come with me.

"There’s no need to be nervous anymore Lisa. With my professional clipper I will relieve you of your mop quickly and without any fuss, and therefore you won’t have to mourn it for long! I assure you, that you’ll hardly feel more than a slight vibration from the blades, while they are cutting off your hair, very close to your scalp. You have my word!" said Carol and met me just before the barber chair.

"But I’m so afraid" I stammered with a crying voice and simply couldn’t understand why I continued to be so weak, and was incapable to put up any resistance. No answer, she just continued with her pitiful grin. Without being able to move, I let myself be pressed into the chair, placed my thin cloth soles on the chrome footrest and weakly rested my arms on my lap.

"Take a last look at your former image in the mirror, then close your eyes and let me proceed!" were Carol’s last instructions, and I obeyed with tearful eyes. I looked at the image of the attractive woman in front of me and asked myself, how it had happened that, I now wanted to separate myself so radically from my usual face, or rather my dear hair. A new wave of desperation overcame me, and rather unconsciously than on purpose, I closed my eyes. The next moment I realized that the closing of my eyes was the signal for my barberette to start with the probably now unavoidable. Shocked I opened my eyes again, but it was too late already. With a jerk, Carol turned the chair around, away from the mirror. I assumed this was in order to spare me the frustrating sight of my shearing, now I only could see the small clothes rack with my simple tan work clothes, which reminded me for the last time of my old existence, a loud sobbing escaped from my tightly caped throat.

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