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My (Really!) True Haircut History - Pt 1 by BaldSurfer
I've posted quite a few fictional haircut stories recently, but today I just have the urge to tell you my own haircut history. And while there's no way to really prove it, I swear this is all really true...
I can't remember exactly when my fascination/obsession with haircuts started, but I was pretty young. I'm 52 now, so I've had these feelings for a long time.
I remember as a small boy, my parents would start each summer by taking me to the barber for a "baldy cut". It wasn't really bald, just a short buzz, but as a kid, I had pale blonde hair and when closely buzzed I looked bald. I hated the haircut at the time, especially with the teasing from my older sister. As hairstyles grew longer, the practice stopped and my parents let me grow my hair gradually longer, but never "long" like shoulder length or pony tail. And my hair is very curly, so it was more big than long. A big puffy white guy 'fro.
Around 6th grade, I got friendly with Neil and Jack - 2 guys who had long straight hair, tied back in pony tails halfway down their backs. One day, Jack showed up at school with his hair cut, not short, but above his shoulders, a good foot shorter than it had been. I was fascinated. I kept asking him questions about it. Why did he do it? Was he nervous? Would he grow it back? I laid in bed, thinking about what it must have felt like, asking for that haircut and before I knew it, I was erect and started to masturbate. I'd always fantasized about girls and this was the first time I pleasured myself thinking about haircuts.
In high school (remember - this was the 70's) everyone had pretty long hair. But one day, 2 guys I vaguely knew from English class bragged that they were going to shave their heads bald because a few people had bet a few hundred dollars that they'd never do it. Next day, they were bald, their scalps pale white. I stared in awe whenever I passed them. I thought about how cool that must have felt. I started thinking about it all the time. I even prank-called barber shops, saying that I had a fraternity initiation and asking if they could shave my head - just to hear what they would say. I never had the nerve to act on the urges, but they filled my fantasies.
Throughout high school and college, my haircut fantasies continued but I never had the nerve or confidence to do anything so radical. By the late 80's, I sported a pretty horrific mullet (although at the time I thought it looked really cool). I was bar tending in Florida, and guys started cutting off their mullets, some even getting buzz cuts, flattops and other short styles. A new barbershop, Deerfield Buzz (still there BTW) opened, specializing in the new short styles. I often drove by slowly, hoping to see some radical haircutting. But I never had the nerve to make the change.
I got a job at a more upscale bar, but a requirement of the job was that I cut my hair. I went to my usual stylist (hadn't set foot in a real barber shop in years) and told her I had to cut my mullet off. She was happy to do it, and she snipped off the back and gave me a "mushroom" cut, the curly hair at the top of my head cut like a bowl cut above my ears, and then she buzzed the exposed sides and back. As she was cutting it, I joked that if I didn't like it, maybe I'd just get a flattop. She thought I was joking. I went to work with the new haircut. Everyone liked it and said it was about time, but I hated it. One of my bar customers turned out to be Chris, then a barber at Deerfield Buzz. One night when I was out drinking and ran into Chris, I asked if he thought I could get away with a flat. He said absolutely, and a few days later, with crazy butterflies in my stomach, I walked into Deerfield Buzz. Guys were getting all kinds of crewcuts and buzzes while I waited for Chris. When it was finally my turn, I sat down and asked for a "longish" flattop. The first thing he did was was place a wide flattop comb into the curly mess on the top of my head, and run the clippers across it. A few swipes later, he pulled away the comb, and the longest hair at the front of my head was less than an inch long and it already looked really flat. He buzzed down the sides and back, blended it, used a butch wax stick to make it all stand straight and then trimmed until it was perfectly level. I couldn't believe that I had just done it. To tell the truth, I didn't really think the flat look suited me, but I'd finally made the jump to short hair.
I got the flat "tuned up" every few weeks for a couple of months. But I still wasn't crazy about it. Then Andre Agassi made headlines by buzzing off all his hair. And Keanu Reeves appeared in Speed, sporting a buzz. I read in a magazine that to get the "Keanu Look" you should ask your barber for a #3 buzz. So that's what I did. Looking at the inch or so in the front, Chris said "You're gonna lose all this" and I said go for it. In less than 10 minutes, I was buzzed. It took all my self control to hide the erection as the clippers ran over my head. I loved it! But my friends hated it. I was, at the time, way too skinny to pull that cut off. I let it grow out to a caesar cut - a popular style at the time thanks to George Clooney.
Around this time, more and more guys were getting short buzzes and white guys were all suddenly shaving their heads bald - something that still haunted my fantasies. I'd started going to the gym, had put on some bulk, and really thought I was ready to try again. One friend of mine had recently taken to getting a #1 buzz and I was dying to try it, and thought that it wouldn't be a big jump after that to shave it all off. Chris was gone and I had a new barber, but I walked in, and without hesitating asked for a #1. Dave asked no questions, just fired up the clippers and buzzed me down. Even though I was barely losing an inch of hair, I was excited by the process, and thank goodness the cape hid my excitement.
I couldn't believe how awesome my close buzz looked and felt. I went home and kept staring in the mirror, running my hand over my stubbly head. My roommate asked me why I'd bothered leaving any hair left at all, and a lightbulb went off in my head. With an hour left before my bartending shift started, I took out my tiny battery-powered beard trimmers. Was I really going to do it? I wanted it. I'd fantasized about it for years. I turned on the trimmers and placed them at the center of my forehead. Now or never. With a deep breath I pushed them back across my hair. But even with a #1 buzz, the tiny trimmers had trouble shearing down the last of my hair. I had about a square inch of bald head. Too late to turn back, but it took nearly 30 minutes and a battery change to finally get it all clipped down. It wasn't the easy dramatic sweeps of the clippers that I'd pictured. But it was finally done. I washed my head with hot water, covered it with shaving cream, and started to finish the job. I was a bartender who worked at night and lounged on the beach all day, so as I scraped away the last of my hair, my scalp almost glowed white compared to my face. But it felt so awesome! And I pictured how it would look when the color evened out. Despite a few bloody cuts, I loved the way it looked when I was done. I was bald and I loved it! I walked into work and shocked co-workers and staff with my new look. And new looks would keep on coming over the following years...
End of Part 1.