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Scotch-Tape Snip by haircoward


Continuing to share my real-life experiences from my time hanging out with my "Hair Hobbyist" friend. I’ve already written about how she’d braided me, curled me, and even gave me a healthy trim… but, this is story has less to do with "hair play".

* * *

She and I had been hanging out for about a year at this point, seeing each other a couple times a week, usually on or around the weekend. Hair-play was still part of our relationship, but after the first few months, it kind of fell to the background. Sure, I’d get braided every now and again, but it wasn’t like an every-hangout thing anymore. My "go-to" hairdo went from wearing an intricate french braid, to wearing a relatively simple "cinnamon bun", so my ponytail would fall into a tight corkscrew spiral curl when it was "down".

In all the time I hung out with my friend, her hair never seemed to grow. It was always just below her shoulders. I had to assume she gave herself trims every now and again. Her hair was super curly as well, and she had trouble finding a stylist who could work with it. In the year or so that’d passed, my hair had grown out quite a bit. I’d finally hit one of my "hair goals", when I reached waist length. My hair hung down to just about the top of my pants.

During our (increasingly) infrequent hair-play sessions, she’d often comment that my hair was getting a bit "too long" to do much with. It was too long, too heavy, and she was definitely getting bored doing the same stuff with it. She also expressed how she wanted to try new styles with her OWN hair, as for as long as I knew her, she always wore it in braided pigtails. She had recently bought a very expensive straightener that she really wanted to use on herself, but couldn’t quite figure it out. Each time she tried, it would make her hair look "flat" rather than straight or styled.

She used the straightener on my hair a few times, which took my length down to my butt… which I loved the feeling of, but admittedly, it wasn’t a very flattering look. Like when she used it on herself, it just looked "flat", not stylish or anything. I definitely enjoyed the straightening process though. Just as with the curls and braids before, this was a feeling and sensation I’d never experienced. The tug and tingles of having a straightener run down my entire length was an amazing, almost out of body experience.

One morning, while she was "unbunning" me and primping my spiral ponytail, she hesitated a bit. She asked if I could do her a favor. A big favor. I didn’t have a clue what she was about to ask, but I became very excited.

She told me about all the things she wanted to try on her hair, new styles with her straightener, maybe even a new cut… but, she wanted to get better by practicing on me. It was an absolute no brainer, so I immediately agreed. She clarified that this wasn’t actually the "favor". She explained that in order for her to actually practice, she’d need my hair to be the same length as hers.

I froze up.

I’d finally hit my "hair length goal". "Waist length" was this mystical, magical length that I’d always wanted to reach. The thought of having it cut off to just below my shoulders made me feel queasy.

She told me to think about it. She also told me that it was a huge "ask" and that she didn’t expect me to actually do it... but if I did, it would mean a lot to her. After a year of her playing with my hair, and giving me such amazing and memorable experiences… hairdos I only dreamt of having, without passing any judgment about me being "weird", I felt kind of obligated to have it cut. I didn’t want to… I REALLY didn’t want to… but, felt like I kind of HAD to.

Which, is the sort of position I love to be in when it comes to the length of my hair.

I left to go about my day and think about whether or not I’d do her this favor. It was literally ALL I could think about. On my drive home I was tempted to pull in to every single strip mall parking lot I passed if I saw it had a salon in it. I called her several times that day to ask for more specifics on the length. I’m sure I came across like an absolute weirdo, but at this point, that veil might’ve already been lifted a bit.

I asked if it would still be long enough to braid after the cut. She insisted it would be.

I’d grown super attached to my long "corkscrew" ponytail, and asked if it would still be long enough for a "cinnamon bun" after the cut. This, however, she wasn’t so sure about. That scared me. I loved having that curl… it had become a huge focus of my hair "interests".

We hung out again either that night or a few nights later. The subject of my "hair length favor" didn’t come up at all. I think we were both avoiding the topic. I know I was.

A few nights, or maybe a week later, she gave my ponytail a tug and finally came out and asked if I’d thought about it. She insisted that there was no pressure, and again acknowledged that it was a pretty huge favor to ask. I admitted that it’s all I’d been thinking about… and asked her to clarify how much I’d be losing. She took my hair down and dug her fingers into it just below my shoulder, holding out the entire length that would have to be cut. It was easily a foot and a half… probably closer to two feet of hair.

She could tell that I was freaking out a bit, and again assured me that I didn’t have to do it.

Knowing this wasn’t a decision I could possibly make, I mentally calmed myself down, and asked if she really wanted me to do this. With my heart in my throat, I told her that it was her decision. I would do whatever she wanted. I’d go to the salon the very next day if she said so. She became super excited.

But… she told me that she didn’t want me to go to a salon.

She explained that in all of our time together, she kind of felt like she "owned" my hair. Just hearing that caused me great excitement. I loved the sound of it. And, she wasn’t wrong.

She told me she wanted to be the one to cut it.

Suddenly, it became crystal clear that I was only minutes, maybe even seconds away from "going short". I honestly thought I’d have at least one more night… and maybe even one more hair-play session with my super-long hair. One more french braid, one more set of pigtails, one more high pony. My heart continued to pound, and I honestly felt like I was about to be sick. Then, I remembered how she said it might be too short for a cinnamon bun… and the realization set in that I was only moments away from losing my curl.

I asked if she’d ever cut that much hair off at once before. She had not. She had, however, once cut someone’s hair TO that length. She took a girlfriend of hers from around bra-strap length to shoulders. I asked how we were going to do it… hoping that, if I was going to lose this much length at once, maybe I’d at least get to walk away with a foot and a half long braid as a "keepsake".

She told me about how she cut her friend’s hair using scotch tape to make a straight line. I did not like the sound of this at all… but, I didn’t want to risk looking weird by arguing, or asking her to cut off my braid instead. This was before hair donation organizations started popping up, so the idea of "saving hair" wasn’t really a "thing" yet. I wouldn’t have a reasonable excuse to "save it", at least. The thought of her knowing how badly I wanted to "keep" my cut-off braid, was way too embarrassing. I wanted it so badly it almost physically hurt.

She explained how this would be a different sort of cut than when she cut off my braid tassel and trimmed me up. That was just a "straight across" cut, and this would be cut so it would wind up being a bit longer in the front. Like a long "a-line", even though I wasn’t yet familiar with that term. Before I could even catch my breath and realize what was happening, she’d already grabbed her hair tools… and a roll of scotch tape.

I was sat down, and she got to work… first, with the straightener. She only straightened it from the top of my head to right around where she planned to cut. My hair was completely flat on top and down my neck, but maintained it’s normal "bounce" flowing down my back.

When she was satisfied with how straight it was, she started with the scotch tape. Unrolling it, and pressing it into my hair just below my shoulders. Pressing it all the way across. I remember feeling a pins and needles sensation as some of my hairs were being pulled. When she was done, I couldn’t help but to touch the back of my neck to see where the tape was. I was shocked that it was so high. I expected it to be at least a little ways down my back, but it was right around my shoulders. She brought me into the bathroom and gave me a small hand mirror so I could watch her cut it. I think she thought it would put me at ease. It did not.

I went to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, but she stopped me. She said she needed me to stay standing while she cut it. I’d never had my hair cut standing up before, though I had seen some ladies with very long hair get "standing" cuts, which both excited me and really drove home what was about to happen to me.

I remember her inserting the scissors above the line of tape. I freaked out a bit, thinking she was going to cut under the tape. It’s silly, as I was going to be losing over 20 inches, but almost lost all my nerve and pulled the plug when I realized I’d be losing an extra 1/2″ due to the tape.

Then, she started cutting. She didn’t even ask if I was "ready", which in hindsight, was probably the smart play. My hair started coming off in sheets, only some of it wound up actually sticking to the tape. I remember her saying "oh my god" over and over again with every single snip. I remember big curls and waves of length hitting my bare feet. I remember stepping on it, and feeling the soft fluff. I became so preoccupied with the mounds and mounds of hair piling up on the floor, I didn’t even watch the actual cutting.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the last strands hit the bathroom floor. My hair, no longer weighted down by 2 feet of length, bounced up to hang just above my shoulders. I felt sick. I could see actual space between the ends of my hair and my shoulders. I also realized that she had straightened it, so, when it went back to "normal" it was going to wind up even shorter than that.

At this point, it was her who started freaking out. She hadn’t planned this out as well as she had thought. My hair could barely fit into a stub of a ponytail anymore, much less a braid or a cinnamon bun. It was also now several inches shorter than her own. I hated it. It was an ugly triangle mushroomy looking cut. I felt like I was in a nightmare. I looked at the floor, and saw all my length laying there. I knew it would be years before it was ever that long again… and maybe it never would be.

My friend sat me down and attempted to use the straightener on it… to try and figure out some sort of style with the remaining length. It was wildly uneven, but she was scared to dare cutting any more off. Once she was able to figure it out and after several tries, my hair finally looked somewhat "decent", though far too "femme" for me to wear it that way out in public. I hated it, and couldn’t wait for it to grow back.

From this point until it finally did grow out, I almost never took it out of its ponytail.



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