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the sentence by Anonymous


This is the story of an experience that represented an important change in my personality. I'm writing this like my own personal journal but also as an encouragement for all young men who may find themselves in a similar situation.
In April 1997 I was sixteen; my big brother Bobby was just twenty thee and my little brother Davey, eleven. In that period I was rebellious and I had a lot of attitude typical of a young man of that age.
There were big differences between Bobby and me: He was the family "good boy" and I was the "black sheep". Bobby studied at university and my parents were enthusiastic about him; they never had problem with their first son, nor with last.
They could say the same also with me, at least until I was fifteen, but after that age, I changed radically. Physically I was a man but psychologically not yet mature like Bobby: well he was a lot older.
For a couple of months I decided to let my beard go unshaved (really thick for my age) and for at least a year, I hadn't been to the barbershop. So, with my trash clothes, I looked like a real toxic. My hair was 20 cm (8 inches) long down my back and I sported a black full beard. This look was a big contrast to my big brother.
Since the previous summer Bobby had been without hair, and his face and head were completely shaved. He decided to stay bald and beardless and shave his face and head every day; I thought he was crazy. I was proud of my wild long hair and beard and ignored my parents every time they suggested I get a proper, or at least decent, haircut.
My father and mother constantly told me "Matt, go to the barbershop!" - or "Matt, if you want long hair at least get a proper haircut!" or - "Matt, trim your beard a bit. You look awful like this".
But every day I ignored these orders, which really I angered them.
One evening my father started to go at me again with this sermon and I, as usual, ignored him. That time it was different: he was tense after work. Knowing by now that soft methods were useless on me, he decided on something more drastic. At first I didn't understand how drastic a choice he had made.
He told me with unnatural calm, "Matt, this time I'm not joking. You'll trim your beard and get a decent haircut before tomorrow night or I'll give to you a severe punishment. OK?"
"Ok!", I replied.
I thought he was very determined at first but, after some hours, I decided to ignore his ultimatum; decided it didn't matter; there was nothing to be afraid about. "I'll keep my long hair", I made up my mind.
The follow evening I had forgotten about the threats of the previous day but it wasn't the same for my father. He returned at home and, looked at my long hair with terrible glare. I realized he was angry, very angry, with me. Suddenly silence surrounded the living room. He continued to look at me with hard eyes and I started to understand that this time something terrible was happening. He started to speak, his voice was hard and angered.
"Well Matt, I see that you didn't hear what I told you, and you've kept your toxic look! Ok! This time you're in for a very hard punishment. You've got to learn in this life it's not possible to do everything you want to do!"
"Matt, I order you to have your head shaved, REALLY SHAVED!: Smooth and clean like a billiard ball! Before Monday you must get a total and perfect hairshave and do the same with your beard! OK!?? I want you to remember every minute of your punishment period until you change your attitude. Eyelashes and eyebrows will be the only hair on your head."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I looked for support from my big brother Bobby, but he was already bald, then to Mum, and she was as surprised as me, then to my little brother Davey, and he seemed to be excited at having another hairless brother.
"To start, your punishment will be five months. If you behave properly your punishment period will end then. If not I'll prolong it." Five months!. This was even worse. How could I possibly be hairless for that long. Even one day would be too much. I wanted to protest out loud, but I was too stunned to get my breath.
"I want you shave your head and face every day! Every day razored. Get it into your brain, and remember that I want you to shave yourself carefully and perfectly. I'll keep checking your head after you shave, and you if it's not perfectly smooth I'll prolong your punishment by 15 days!! You'll have a lot of work with the razor boy but perhaps this will teach to you to be more tidy. Remember Matt, you have until Monday to do it! And one more thing. No wearing a hat. Everyone's got to see you without any hair. That's it Mat. No argument. Shave your head. You hear me?!"
The verdict was decided. My father's determination shocked and frightened me. I went to my bedroom very confused about these orders, but one thing was completely clear for me: this time my father wasn't joking. I didn't have a choice. Before Monday I must cut my hair and my beard off. My heart jumped thinking about it: I never imagined I would be forced to do this. I loved my long hair but, above all, I really didn't like shaved heads, and always considered natural baldness like a terrible misfortune
I reckoned that it was insane and incomprehensible that men decided to be bald by choice. My big brother was one of these: Oh Bobby! I couldn't understand how he had chosen to shave his blond hair and keep his head chrome dome bald. I always thought he was crazy and that I'd never look like him.
Now my destiny was changed. Before Monday I'd look exactly like him!! I continued to think about my situation. I couldn't believe the trouble in which I'd put myself. I was very tense and afraid, and I had no choice; this time I had no choice. There were no solutions or compromises this time. I was not able to think about anything else: my head shaved! Oh my God! Shaved!! I felt myself alone and stupid.
After several minutes Bobby came into my room, closed the door and sat on the desk, in front of me. I wasn't even able to speak at that moment. I should have resented him, and been angry with him. After all it he hadn't been bald, Dad would probably never have thought of making me shave my hair and beard off.
Bobby was very serious and visibly sorry for me, he put his and on my shoulder and said, "Well, this time Dad's very angry with you Matt, I'm very sorry for all that's happened." I couldn't be angry with Bobby. He was my big brother and was forever getting me out of scrapes. The trouble was that he was bald, and now I would have to be bald like him.
"Oh! Bobby". I felt hopeless but, at least, I could speak with somebody: not simply somebody, but my bald brother! "What do you think Bobby? I'm a big time idiot!"
"Well Matt, the problem is you should have listened to Dad before this", he replied. "Then perhaps you wouldn't be in this situation!"
"You're probably right bro," I hated to agree, "but now.... What can I do to get out of Dad's punishment? I really don't like the idea of being bald! You know how much I love my hair! I never could figure why you want to shave your head all the time". This is what I was saying aloud but, on the other hand, I knew that there was little I could do about my bald sentence. Still, I hoped that Bobby would help me to find a solution, a compromise, to convince our father to give me another last chance. After a long, endless minute he told me what I already knew
"Matt, believe me: there is nothing you can do. Dad will never change the rules of your punishment now. This time I'm absolutely sure of it. I'm sorry but you have no choice: You got to accept your discipline; and quickly!"
"Bobby", I mumbled in despair, "maybe Dad will be satisfied if I trim my beard down get my hair cut short, even a crew cut. And that's too short for me. But I guess it's better than a shaved head!"
Bobby shook his head in sympathy with my predicament. "No Matt, Dad wants you beardless and bald like me. You know it? Shaved with soap and razor-"
I looked to his bald head, understanding that this was to be my look as well for next five months. Bobby's head was completely bald, without any trace of hair. The light of my table lamp reflected on it in the same way it reflected on the palm of my sweaty hand. It seemed he never had hair on his shiny scalp.
"What's I like Bobby? Can I feel?", I asked sort of embarrassed.
"Sure" He leaned his head towards me. I started to pass my hand over his freshly shaved bald head. It was the same feeling as an ivory billiard ball but a bit warmer. I pulled my hand away, distraught by this strange, and for me unimaginable feeling. I was shocked.
Bobby smiled "Hey Matt, don't make a face! It might seem strange at first, but after a while you'll get used to it!"
He spoke as though it was clear that very soon I would be smooth like him, and actually he was right! I stroked my hand on his scalp again, this time more deliberately. It was just smooth firm skin, and nothing else; at the same time I was trying to feel my own scalp through my thick, long hair, trying to imagine my head smooth like Bobby's. I was speechless!
"I know you don't like it Matt, and I think that Dad has chosen a very hard punishment for you, but you must admit it's useless to think in the past. You must face the present now: accept your punishment and get used to the idea of being a baldie as soon as is possible."
My God. I was going to be a baldie. My voice almost trembled as I asked what I really didn't want to know, "And how often do I shave my head?"
"Well Matt, every day like me. Dad wants you smooth so you must resign yourself to shave your head every day for five months."
"Yeah! Like you. Did you suggest this to Dad, just to get me to copy you. I don't want to be what you call a 'baldie'. If it wasn't for your mad head shaving I wouldn't be in this mess"
"Mat, I swear -"
"You like shaving your head. I can't imagine why. It's your fault."
"Hold on Mat. You got yourself this sentence by being stubborn and looking like a tramp. Sure I like to shave my head. I suppose it's my way of being individual like you are with long hair. But Dad's calling the shots. Not me. I had no idea he would make you go bald. I'm really sorry Mat. I shave my head of my own accord. But it doesn't matter what the reason is. You simply have to have to get your head shaved or the consequences could be -"
"I'm sorry bro. You'd never do that. Dad's strong minded enough to think of it himself. Sorry."
"I've got to be honest Mat. I'll be real pleased to see you bald like me. Two bald brothers -"
"Cut it out Bobby. Don't joke. This is serious. Yeah! Well at least I don't suppose I'll bare headed on my own. But don't call me a 'baldie'. I'd hate that. What about 'shavehead' or something. Not a baldie." All my hopes were lost.
"Face it Mat. It won't be easy for you - a big change in your appearance; but I'm sure that, after awhile you'll get used to being a baldie. Ah, sorry. ShaveHead.
"Oh my God," I almost shouted, " How can I go out in public with a shaved head without even a cap? There are several boys with very short haircut but nobody with shaved BALD head! I'll be the only one. Everyone'll notice. What'll I say?"
"You'd better tell everyone it was your choice. You wanted to create your own image. That'll be easier in the long run. After a few weeks your friends will be used to your new look."
"It's not that easy Bobby. I'll give it a go. Don't suppose I have any choice. OK then, I'll take your advise. But how am I going to do it? I've got to shave my head every day. Will you show me how to do it? Dad says it's got to be perfect.
"Sure you don't want to go to the barber's?" Bobby asked. "That's what I was going to do for my first head shave. I'll come with you if you like."
"This is all too hard bro. What do you reckon? I thought you'd do it for me. Don't you want to? I don't think I could sit in the barber's chair and ask him to shave my head. All the gang go there. They'd all talk about it. Won't you do the shaving for me Bobby?" I begged.
"Matt, don't worry about it. Tomorrow I'll shave your head. Sure I'll do it for you. It's your first shave and your scalp is not used to the razor so it's better if I do the job myself here at home. You OK with that?" Bobby really was being a big help.
"Ok Bobby, thanks for your support".
"'Tis nothing little bro. Now go to bed and relax yourself: tomorrow will be the big day." He ruffled my hair for probably the last time. I knew he was trying to make me feel better. But it made me feel worse. "I'll be happy to change this hairy and shaggy hippie into a docile, bald bonzo smooth and clean like a turnip."
"Y..yes, smooth and clean like a turnip."
I went to bed, but didn't sleep much that night. It seemed all was decided about my future haircut ... in effect there was little to decide. For some minutes I was very relaxed: I was happy to have spoken with Bobby. He could guess what I was going through, even though he was a 'baldie' because he wanted to be. And I was also happy he offered to shave my head because I would never have gone to the barber's, I don't think I could have done it myself. I'd never be able to work up the guts. It was bad enough to be forced to be bald without having to worry about the "technical" aspects, clippers, shave cream, razors and that lot.
Even though I tried hard to stay calm, and dropped into a fitful doze, I started awake again very tense about the idea of follow day's ordeal. This went on all night. The following morning I got up tired and nervous. I showered and combed and brushed my hair with great care with a severe straight part in the middle (usually I just gave it a quick flick with my fingers for the shaggy look that Dad and Mum hated). This would be the last morning I would be able to see myself like this in the mirror.
As I was coming out of the bathroom and Bobby was going in, as a joke, he closely examined my carefully groomed hair and beard with a grin. I scowled. His face became serious.:
"...Tonight when I get home ?
"Ok Bobby..Tonight".
I was totally resigned, 'smooth and clean like a turnip'.
At school I was very inattentive, trying to sneak looks at any of the guys with short, short hair. There was a couple who had been buzzed, but not shaved. I wanted to talk to them about taking their hair off, but I just couldn't work myself into it.
All day I thought continuously about shaved heads, clippers, lather and Bobby's razor: soon I'll be shaved!!! Really shaved!
I came straight back from school that afternoon and waited for Bobby to get back from college. I sure as hell didn't want to be bald, but I wanted to get it over with. Finally, after an endless wait, Bobby came back:
"Ok Matt, here I am, are you ready for your baldie?
"No. But I haven't got a choice. Bobby, don't call me a baldie." I said with a mixture of sadness and defiance.
"Give me a few minutes to set up in the bathroom - and relax yourself."
He started to mess around in the bathroom while I waited, stewing, in living room. After the shortest/ longest time he called me from bathroom.
"Ok Matt, all's ready. Come in here!"


My parents and little brother Davey weren't home that afternoon, so at least there was something positive for me. We could get this over in private.
The big adventure started when I opened the door of the bathroom: I was in a state of shock and I felt myself like a prisoner walking into a torture chamber. Bobby had prepared everything for my shearing: a chair in front of the mirror and sink, a big sheet as a barber cape, a tube of shaving cream with brush and pot, some towels, electric clippers that had been around the house for years (no one knew why - now I did) and, naturally, the master tool for a perfect shave - a new safety razor with fresh sharp blades.
My bathroom was to my barbershop, and my brother, the cruel barber-craftsman to manipulate the transformation from my usual look to another; billiard ball like! All hair-removal implements were ready around the sink, ready to be used on me!!
"Well Matt, It's time to start. OK? We have a lot of work to do."
I couldn't speak
"Sit down little bro, in the chair!"
I sat down.
"I think you'll be too hot with this long "barber cape", it's better if you'll take off your shirt, OK?"
I obeyed. I felt myself like a convict on a gallows, but even this expression can't give an idea about how I felt. I looked to the mirror and I watched; a frightened boy with naked torso and long beard and hair. Behind him a bald man put his hands on the boy's shoulder - my shoulder.
"Hey little bro, relax yourself! It's only hair! After all I'm sure that you'll be used to being bald very soon! Don't worry. Relax yourself!"
This was easier said than done. But I did relax a bit as he firmly massaged my shoulders as he spoke.
I was in the chair: the shearing was about to start! He fastened the sheet around my neck covering me completely as far as my feet. It was hot, and like a straight jacket. But I pulled it off again, sitting there baretop. He gently moved my head backwards and said, "We start with beard".
Oh my beard, so thick for my age! I was proud of it. He turned on his clippers, put it on my throat and started to work all around. I felt the vibrations of the clipper's teeth on my skin, chin, upper lip and sideburns. In the mirror I could watch tufts of black beard falling from my face, down my chest and onto my lap. Bobby carefully denuded my face from all hair and beard I previously had.
The sound of clippers all around my face seemed like a big fly buzzing around my head. The feeling of bare clippers on my skin was completely new for me: a small but very intense vibration that tickled my face. Previously I never tried it on my face, only on my nape and around my ears when I had my old bowl cut and, in any case, not a short one and not bare blades.
After every pass the clippers left a grey looking patch of stunted beard. In a matter of minutes Bobby had finished the sheering: all my beard was reduced to stubble, after months of growing my whiskers I felt the roughness of a three day growth once again. Bobby turned off the clippers and patted my face.
"Ok Matt, step one OK for the beard. Now for your hair, this time there is a lot to cut off!"
I looked my shorn face in the mirror, I felt very strange that my head would soon be like this. Before I had time to mope about this Bobby had lifted a fistful of long hair at the back, switched on the clippers and put them at the bottom of the hair line. He paused, then moved my head forward.
I closed my eyes: the real shearing was starting. Slowly he moved the clippers in the mass of my hair: I felt vibrations on my skin and a cool sensation as Bobby sheared away the first fistful of my hair.
"Come on bro. Open your eyes. Look at this." He waved the big hank of hair in my face and dropped it in my lap. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but just stared at this mound of my hair spread all over my jeans.
The coolness at continued to increase little by little as shearing proceeded, the hair dropping onto my bare shoulders and back, and even though I couldn't watch the process, large clumps falling on the floor.
Bobby continued his work, slowly but inexorably, every pass higher up my nape until he reach the top of my ears. At this point he moved to the side. I could watch the clippers working on me now. With the first pass he completely erased all hair that covered my right ear and with second pass I watched in horror as the clippers cut all my hair off on my right temple.
After some seconds my left side got the same treatment. Bobby stopped for a moment. "How's it going Mat? You enjoying this?"
"Don't ask silly damn questions. But you can't stop now."
He went around the back again and sheared me right up and over the crown into the really long hair. Because the last time my hair was styled it was a bowlcut, the top was a lot longer even than the sides. My parents called this extra thickness of hair a 'floor mop'. Even I had to admit it was a weird shape, but that's why the rebel in me liked it a real lot.
I couldn't resist a feel of the shorn patch and nearly had my fingers mowed for my trouble, but not before I felt that back of my head was hairless. My God. It was happening. I was on my way to premature baldness.
Now around to the front. Immediately he pushed the clippers right into the hair down on the scalp at front of my head. I twitched in terror as I watched the buzzing blades disappear in the mop of my hair right at the front. That's where old guys went bald first, didn't they? A large clump fell down. I stared fascinated. A broad stripe on my head was buzzed off, falling onto the growing pile in my lap: there was only a little stubble of hair where my careful centre part had been only this morning. The hole in my hair showed a white scalp. I felt myself like a sheep.
With a few more passes Bobby erased completely my old appearance: stroke after stroke he passed over my whole head leaving only a thin stubble like my beard. When he finished and turned off the clippers I could see the total damage: It didn't look like me the mirror. There was another boy reflected there! I looked completely different.
There wasn't a trace of my previous look. All my hair was on the floor where Bobby had just brushed it off my shoulders. I picked up the hair- mountain in my lap, looked at it one last time with a sigh, and tossed it on the floor with the rest.
My face and head had the same appearance. Shorn. Everywhere the same, thin stubble about 1mm long. There was the real shape and color of my head and face. I felt really strange. My black stubble, mixed with the white of my face, give me a strange, grey, appearance. To my total surprised there was practically no difference between my face and my scalp: buzzed off in an unique, continuous surface.
I lifted my hand and I started to pass it over my face and head. It was an incredible, unimaginable, feeling. All my stubble was extremely rough, there was no difference between my beard and my scalp, everywhere a rough feeling like sandpaper.
I shook my head and I didn't feel the usual movement of my mop swinging all around. Another strange feeling was my ears being totally exposed, I was used to having them covered by hair.
Bobby started to remove my hair from floor and sink and said, "Step two terminated. How do you feel now? I must admit that you had a heap of hair and beard little brother. Now there's a big difference."
"S**t Bobby, I feel horrible with this bald head: it's so rough!"
"Well little bro, you aren't really bald yet. Now look like a marine. Bot you've got to look like a shaolin monk. You know, a marine is buzzed off and a shaolin monk is bald: the difference is that the monk keep his head shaved, shaved WITH THE RAZOR !!"
I thought I was finished after the buzz, I had completely forgotten Dad's order but Bobby reminded me of the reality. He patted by stubble head and said, "Now you get to be shaved Mat, so you'll be totally bald."
Bald. The word shocked me again. He turned on the hot water in the sink and waited a minute to be sure it was very hot, took a towel and soaked it with hot water, wrung it out and put on my head like a turban.
"Hot towel will soften your scalp: it's your first shave and your skin is very tender."
It felt strange when he covered my head with the towel; the hot feeling directly on my skin. He moved my head backward and said, "Now let's complete the work with this beard!"
He made lather with hot water and foam, swirled it on my face with brush and started to shave my face with a razor. I had never used a brush so I felt it unusual. He worked carefully for a few minutes. My face was clean shaved. I felt like a little boy again .
"OK Matt. You had a pretty heavy beard, but I think I've done a good job."
He was right. I patted my hand on my face and I felt it clean shaved. At that point I became sad, very sad: It was time for the last part of my transformation, the hardest and most humiliating part of my punishment. Until that moment I behaved like an adult man. I had accepted my situation although I didn't like it, particularly the total buzz with clippers. But now it was different: to get my head shaved with foam and razor was a terrible and cruel punishment for me. I had a knot in my throat and I couldn't speak. Bobby too was sad for me.
"Well little bro, now it's time to shave this head...with the grain and against the grain... I know how you feel now but tough it out. In a few minutes all this work will be done."
It was all very well to stay tough, but I didn't want that all this agro. This was real hard for me. I was totally resigned that I was going to be shaved bald; but it was so outlandish for me that I couldn't believe that it was really happening. Suddenly I was able to distance myself from this torture, like an out-of-body experience - outside looking in. Bobby asked me if I was ready.
In a voice that was hardly mine I spoke firm and sure, "Ok Bobby, I'm ready .... thanks for your support big bro."
He didn't answer but patted me firmly on the shoulder. The foam was made with very hot water; all was ready. He removed the towel from my head and started to apply the lather with the brush. Lather was very hot. This was a strange feeling on my scalp, kind of like shampoo, but I knew it wasn't. In the mirror my head was covered with a layer of white, hot, foam. Bobby moved my head forward and clicked a new blade in the razor.
"Now hold still little brother".
He put razor on my nape and moved it on my head from top to bottom. I head only my heartbeat and the sound of razor sliding on my scalp. This feeling I will never forget, stroke after stroke passing over whole head.
Then he was ready to shave the top of my scalp. From here on I would be officially bald. I still hated the idea, but this section was the last lap to the winning post, or something. Then it would be all over bar the shouting. Oh! Well. Enjoy it. And I did as I watched the razor remove a path of shaving cream and leave a strip of pink, bare scalp. With more passes of the razor all the foam was removed: I was bald, bare skin. Bobby stroked his fingers all around to check his work.
"Ok Matt, now the final touch .... This time against the grain."
He re-lathered my head with brush and bent it forward again. This time the feeling was a little different from the first shave; I felt razor work more deeply when he moved from the top on my nape, and sides, and front to back on the top. I couldn't see any differences but this second shave make me perfectly smooth. Bobby rubbed my head and retouched some missed spots, after passed his hand all around. It was a completely new feeling for me: his hand was cool and smoothed all around my head without and hair to protect it.
"You're ready Matt, now you're really smooth and clean like a cueball."
He rinsed my head with very cold water and dried it with a towel: I was surprised how water slid off my head and the feeling of the towel on my bare scalp. My skin was extremely sensitive. Bobby massaged my scalp with baby oil to sooth irritation.
"What do you think?"
I looked myself on the mirror: I was completely bald, B A L D !!! I couldn't see a single hair on my head: my scalp was completely naked and shiny. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. It seemed that I had never had hair on my head! To my touch my head was totally smooth - everywhere, only smooth scalp.
"I know how you feel", sympathised Bobby. "When I went baldie last year �.. everyone said what great blonde hair I had. But I didn't care. Then I saw myself bald for the first time like you, I thought 'My God. What have I done?'. But you'll get used to it. You just need a bit of time. And you know you look very good with a bald head."
Without saying too much I thanked Bobby was went to my room as he cleaned up the mess. He asked me I wanted to keep the shorn hair as a memento, but right now I just couldn't bare it. That was a pretty sick. I couldn't bare it 'cause I was bare headed.
I spent at least one hour in front of mirror to contemplate my freshly shaved head. I felt myself totally outlandish. For the first time I could see the shape of my crown without hair. From various points I observed my head using another mirror. Back, sides, top: everywhere bare and smooth skin.
I felt naked, all my previous look was destroyed along with my tough personality I though. I went to bed with the strange slippery feeling of the pillow on my bald head.
Follow morning, the beginning of the week I almost cringed in terror to sport my shiny, white, hairless head at school; and no hat. It was terrible. Teachers and friends were surprised at my new look and badgered me with a lot of questions. The only thing I could say with a sheepish grin was "Well, I decided to try something different and drastic."
I didn't know if it was credible but nobody seemed to suspect the real cause of my head shave. I felt hundred of hands patting my bald head. Somehow I didn't mind when the girls stroked my baldness, and a few even kissed it. That was compensation of a sort, and I needed every scrap of back-up I could get. I thought I looked awful but some friends told me that it suited me quite a bit, I had a lot of courage to do it! I began to think that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. But I was still embarrassed at the attention my shaved head was getting, particularly since it wasn't my choice to get rid of my hair, which I liked a lot. But truthfully, I could hardly stop myself feeling my bald head, and I did when I thought no one else was looking.
When I returned at home my father rubbed my crown and asked, "How are you baldie?"
"I look like an alien Dad and I feel naked with bald head."
"I know you don't like it son but you let yourself in for this punishment. It's for your character. You know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes Dad, I was an idiot." What else could I say?
"You sure were Matt, but remember that this head must be shaved every day for next five months. OK? And do the same with your beard."
"Ok Dad, I'll keep myself beardless and bald I promise it."
Five months completely shaved!! In the evening Bobby returned at home and asked my about my first bald day.
"Very hard Bobby", I answered
"First times are harder, even you want to do it. But I'm sure that very soon you'll be used to being hairless, and your friends'll expect it too."
I believed that I'd never be used to it. It was impossible.
"Wel little bro, now it's time to take to the razor again!"
"Again!? But you shaved me yesterday!"
"You are a baldie now, sorry 'shavehead', and after 24 hours your head is not perfectly smooth. Hair grows very fast. Every day is razor day. This is the first rule. Remember it. Follow me to the bathroom. You've got to learn to be a proficient shaver. I can't shave you every time!"
I rubbed my head, in effect there was a thin, invisible but perceptible, trace of stubble, I wasn't perfectly smooth. All this was bad enough up to now. But to shave myself! S**t!
Bobby showed me how work with razor while he shaved his own head. He told me to do this after a shower, lathered his head and explained to me how to use the razor at every point.
After I lathered my scalp I gingerly picked up the razor and touched it to my head. After a moment I began to slide it over my scalp, starting at the back. He checked me while I shaved myself. It seemed to work and wasn't as hard as I expected, but hard enough.
After my first self-shave I was again totally smooth, like I must to be, and like Bobby was. In that moment, seeing our freshly shaved heads together in the mirror, I felt really close to my brother.
"Ok Matt, congratulation. I think you' re very able for your first shave."


In the days and weeks to come everyone became used to my bald and beardless look. After awhile, even the opposition and pests stopped stressing me about it.
I continued shaving my head every day.
At I spent a lot of time on it because I was afraid that Dad would prolong my punishment if I left even a whisker, and in case I cut myself. I worked razor slowly and very carefully until I was sure my head was shaved super smooth. After a couple of weeks I was totally resigned to be a chrome dome and my daily appointment with razor become almost routine. I learned to shave my head perfectly and without razor burns. I also became much quicker than those first times.
It was incredible for me but I started to enjoy being a shavrhead! A bit over a month from my bald debut I went on a holiday in the mountain with friends and I forgot the razor. After a couple of weeks, a thin and rough stubble covered my head. I felt very strange, and in fact I felt myself untidy.
My friends noticed my stubble and told me that they rather me totally bald! I was very surprised about this. By now people expected me to be shaved!
When I returned home I was afraid Dad noticed my stubble so I asked Bobby to shave me because I was very tired. When I was shaved smooth and beardless I felt myself tidy and clean again. It seemed that I couldn't resist being bald. And that was weird.
Shave after shave during the five months of punishment terminated and my father gave me permission to let my hair grow. I wasn't as happy as I imagined I would be at the beginning of my punishment. But I did start to let my hair grow again.
After a bit over a week I sported some lengthening stubble but I realised didn't like it. How could that be?
I spoke with Bobby about it. There it was. Five months totally shaved hairless had altered me from a rebel and impulsive character. I felt myself really changed and Bobby told me that it was true!
I had a new image of myself and I didn't want to go back.
"Bobby, I feel really strange with this stubble."
"Well, finally you have your hair again! It won't stay stubble forever. It'll grow in no time. Soon you'll be able to brush and comb it, and put in a part. What style are you thinking of?"
"Yes but I don't want change my look again .... I don't. No .... Now people expect me to be bald and ..... and ....... me �.. I expect it too!"
"Really Matt? But now your punishment period is over! Everyone'll get used to you with hair again".
"Yes but ... I don't know ....I was made to have my head shaved for punishment. But now ... now I feel myself different."
"Well little bro, you are different now. Now I can tell you that you needed a real shake-up. It's worked, hasn't it? Dad knew what he was doing. Now you've really grown up.
"Ok. Thanks. But now I don't want to go back .....
"Do you feel good now? Then OK! Don't go back!"
"Uh... "
"Think about it Matt. Keep your head shaved: but by your choice man! Make your shaved head the symbol of your new personality. Make a deal with yourself!"
"Yeah, Bobby, you're right. That's what I was thinking. I'll keep my head shaved. This is my new way to be! Bald ... yes, bald. Bald by Choice, this is my choice now: I'll be proud to be shaved bald!
I was very happy about my decision, I felt good, really good.
"Then let me shave your head for the first time �.. the first because you want it!"
"Of course big bro! I want it smooth like a baby's bum, totally shaved!
"You can bet it!"
"And I won't mind being called a BALDIE!"
He replied with a large smile.
He shaved me and I was again bald, Bald by Choice. After that day I'm a convinced and committed baldie.
I shave my head daily and I love to do it. Even though I'm still a teenager, I can never imagine that I will ever have hair on my head again, ever. Bald is my thing. I could never have believed it when my Father ordered me get rid of my long hair, but now this is part of my personality and rule number one is:


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