A New Story by jonnyboy

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I’ve always tried to keep up with hair fashion, and fortunately, being a young looking 34 year old (most people guess my age at about 26), I can get away with it. I’ve never had thick hair and I think there are only minor signs of recession, so I think I’m pretty lucky.

Until last September, I had the quiff look (#1 on the sides and squared off and partly up the back, into a sort of DA style and then brushed forward on top to what my friends called a ‘fright quiff’. You know, sticking up straight with the use of plenty of product (Fudge as it goes).

Last June, a mate and I decided we’d grow it out and get the Mullet look. We both have similar hair and styles but he spikes his more than I do. I started to grow mine out. I didn’t want a disaster of an 80’s Mullet but the new look which I reckon is pretty cool, slightly longer at the sides, the back grown out to collar length and the top about 31/2 “ long and spiked.

Anyway, I felt that last I had finally got there. No more #1s for me, just a scissor cut and really choppy. I moved on to using Fat Fish Max Wax which is great for spiking. I got my stylist to leave it longer through the centre and the sides have grown out. Looked pretty good and a few people had commented on the change, saying it really suited me and it looked cool..

Then, my senses got the better of me. I’d always wanted to get my head shaved but never had the courage to do it. I guess the change in style had prompted something in my mind again.

How would it look? Did I have the right shaped head? What would it feel like? You know, the sort of things you think about. Would it really look so terrible that I would have to lock myself away for months? I don’t have a regular girlfriend to worry about at the moment and as for my friends and colleagues, well you always expect a bit of banta when you’ve made a change, even it is to grow your mop.

Well I finally had the courage to make the move and get it over with. I must have been mad after spending time to grow it out, but that was it. I had to do it or.

Early a few Monday morning’s ago (I had taken the day off work), I got in the car and drove to a traditional gent’s stylist a few miles away from home. I had been past the place in the car a couple of times as it’s local and had occasionally seen guys in there getting a skinhead, well, #1 or 0 anyway. I wondered if they would do the full shave. I plucked up courage and got there just as they were opening. No one else in sight, so I went in. I thought that I could ask a stupid question or two without anyone else being there and I wouldn’t look too stupid.

I sat down and the barber asked me to step up and make myself comfortable. He put the gown around my neck and tucked it in. He realised I was nervous as I was shaking a bit and he said he hadn’t seen me before I said that I normally got my hair styled a few miles away but that I wanted something totally different. He looked at my face and all around my head and before he said anything else I said ‘Just shave it man! Strip it all off ’. That was it. I had said it and it just came right out. Mouth in motion before brain in gear. Oh my God! My heart was pounding like a good’n and I could feel that I had a bit of a hard-on. Clearly this was exciting and more so than I had imagined. Sounds a bit ‘queer’ but having read some of the stories on this website, it seems normal now.

He waited a few moments and asked if I was sure. I told him I was and that I had finally plucked up the courage to do the dirty deed. He looked again and combed through my spiked up locks which were bleached at the tips to be really trendy. He said

‘Well, I think the contours of your head are OK and it would probably look alright. How short do you really want it because you’ve got a good style. Are you sure you want me to strip it all?’ I said for sure. I said just do it before I change my mind. I knew that given too many opportunities that I would chicken out and it was just something I had to do.

With that, he picked up the clippers and on they went. They were huge and bigger than the ones you normally see. He said he had imported them and they were used by the military when guys join up and go for their first haircut, or should I say hair strip, ‘caus you can’t say that those guys have a good haircut at all.

He said he would do the back and sides first and take them off on a #1, then take the top down to a #3 or 4 before he got going so I could still change my mind if I really wanted to. That way he could probably still spike it up a bit for me or do a flat-top or a horseshoe. I said no and to strip it straight through the middle. With that, he held my head still and placed the clippers on my front hairline with no guard. This was sit and there was no going back. ‘Are you sure you want me to do this as you really have got good hair?’ ‘Yep, do it’ and with that he pressed the clippers against my head as tight as he could and just mowed backwards and cleared a wide strip, buzzing the lot I was looking in the mirror and my face must have been a picture. Hair falling to the left and right and over my eyes. I could almost have cried at the sight I saw. I’d only just come back from a holiday to the West Indies but even so, my scalp, for that was practically all that there was, was quite white.

Bald as the day I was born…well almost. I’d done it now and how I wished I hadn’t. It looked dreadful. He kept going front to back and then back to front, the hair making that familiar sound, until the sound stopped and the top of my head was bald (#0 anyway). I looked like and old bald man with just the bits around the sides. He then cleared the left side in the same way, straight up, no blending, so I knew this was the end of my beautiful locks. I did say to leave my sideys so he buzzed them down to a #1. Then the right.

I looked like some recruit just joined the marines, as if I didn’t know that was going to happen, but until it does, you don’t think it’s real. What had I done?

Well, before I could even get a chance to rub my head, out came the hot towel and then after a few minutes the shaving cream and a cut through razor. He didn’t acknowledge me. I didn’t get a chance to say stop and leave it at a #0. He had obviously decided that if I wanted it done that much, then that was what I was getting and not chance to change my mind. He had a glint in his eye and I think that even if I had said OK before he stripped the top, I would have had no luck and it would have been a case of ‘sorry Sir I’ve already started’.

Off it all came, well what was left came off, bit by bit, running the razor slowly through the mess that was at the moment a crewcut/skinhead. He took about 30 minutes to do his worst and then washed my head off over the sink. He then lathered me up again and shaved in the opposite direction and again, I could hear hair being stripped away but it felt different. The razor didn’t glide so well, but it felt real good after all that. A final rinse off and towelling and the dirty deed was done. He then oiled my head and buffed it up. No shine, just smooth. He said to touch it which I did and it really was smooth. I’d always seen guys about with a #1 or 0 but hadn’t thought that it would feel much different than that, but it must have done.

I had done the dirty deed and he had stripped every last hair off. I have to say that I felt sick. I had never seen my head before as bald and it was a shock.

What had I done? But that was it. He took the cape off and stood me up. He said’

‘I didn’t want to do it. You had a good style and it looked cool. Still, that’s what you wanted. You do look like you should belong to the local skins gang. It’ll grow back to about 1” in a month and then if you get the sides shaved down to a 0, it won’t look too bad. I hope you’re not disappointed’. I said ‘It’s not that. You’ve done a brilliant job and it’s what I wanted but I think it’s going to take time to get used to being a baldy. I must be mad as I’m sure that by the time I get to my forties it’s going to start to go missing. Why is it that some of us blokes feel the need to shave our heads when nature will do the job in time anyway?’

I thanked him and left the shop, wondering what the hell I looked like. I think a few people outside did as well. I really hoped the ground would swallow me up.

I drove home with tears in my eyes. It was the worst day’s work I had done.

I arrived home and wait straight to the bathroom for an all round view in the mirrors. Yep, bald as bald could be. No stubble at all. Absolutely smooth. I still had tears in my eyes but I could do nothing. I moped around the house all day, feeling my head, It wouldn’t be so bad with some stubble but there was no use as it had all been taken off. I had an early night.

The next day, I got up early, having first of all forgotten what I had done until I caught sight of myself in the bedroom mirror and my heart sank. I went into the bathroom and ran the water for a wet shave as I always do. I started as usual and got up to my sideys. Then I just shaved them clean as well. I finished my face and took a look. I felt my head and it felt bristly. After the emotion of the day before, Dare I?

Well what the hell. I lathered up and started right at the front, stripping away 1 day’s growth and worked my way back, using a W S quarto. I went from the crown and worked forwards so as to get used to it and just kept on going, then I worked back the other way having applied some more shaving cream. I then sliced up the sides and then to the back of my head from the crown down to my neck. Bald as a badger again. I must be mad, but it felt good and I did this for the next week. You can imagine the comments I got at work and from friends. They thought I was mad and looked like a total thug.

After that, I thought enough already. It did look good but I wanted to get back to style again. It was fun whilst it lasted. I left it a week, a month, 3 months. It had grown into a mess but I had trimmed the sides with my clippers to a #1 and my friend Marie had trimmed the top, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted that bald look and nothing would stop me. I went back to the barbers and he was there again. His name was actually Alan and he looked me up and down. ‘Back again Sir!’ What can I do for you this time?’ I couldn’t stop myself and I said ‘Same again if you can remember that far back’. He nodded and I got into the chair with a familiar cape being placed around my neck. No further questions and comments. He and I both knew the score and what was going to happen. Out came the clippers but this time they were different. Quite small and when he turned them on they had a really high pitched sound.

‘Nothing to worry about sir. Just some new clippers we got in as we’re doing more and more crewcuts that these make a better job than clippers. Again, no chance to change my mind as he pressed them against my fringe. He didn’t even bother to comb the hair down which was spiked up. He went straight for the kill. Pressing I thought quite hard, he buzzed me. They took a swathe of hair with them and this time, no stripe of hair…just skin, absolutely bald. He kept on through the top again and back to ensure he got all the strays, then he did the sides and finally the back.

‘There you are. No need for a shave this time’. I felt my head and it felt good. Smooth as silk again and that’s how it’s staying, so I guess I’ll never know if I go bald, because I’m not letting it grow to find out.

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