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My First (and Last) Bald Undercut by haircoward


In my latest story, I shared the true story about the time my "hair hobbyist" friend cut off about two feet of my hair using the "scotch tape" method. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that wound up being toward the end of our time hanging out. I’m sure I can recall a few more fun hair-experiences from before we drifted apart (though nothing as "major" as a first-time styling or big chop) that I can share at some point.

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This story is from around two years later, and I was seeing a new girl. My hair had grown back out to probably just around mid-back length. I hadn’t gotten it cut, or even trimmed again since the "scotch tape" incident. During those couple of years, I’d discovered… and become obsessed with pictures and videos of women donating their hair. Hair donation was pretty novel/new and was like this undiscovered treasure trove of hair content. I was absolutely hooked.

I loved the huge changes, I enjoyed the "ritualization" of the cut, the audience of excited folks watching as a nervous woman would be caped, ponied or braided… then snipped. I wanted so badly to BE one of them. I wanted to be seated, have a crowd drawn around me… watching as a stylist meticulously weaved my hair into a braid, knowing that just moments later, I’d be feeling the cold crunch of the scissors at my nape. It really became an obsession. I remember visiting the various hair donation websites nearly every single day during my "grow out", hoping there’d be one that would take six inches or less as a donation. I would look for "locks of love affiliated" salons in my neighborhood. I’d look for hair donation drives. It was almost a sickness how consumed with this I was becoming.

My hair had finally reached "donatable" length. My ponytail was just a bit longer than 8″, which was the minimum amount accepted by the Pantene Beautiful Lengths charity. Acting very out of character, I had psyched myself up for weeks in preparation to donate it, figuring I’d come out of it with chin length bob-length hair. It had been forever since I wore my hair that length, and I found myself very excited about it. I had gotten a surprise undercut bob by a neighborhood stylist in her home salon back during high school, as boys having undercuts with ponytails was in style at the time. I couldn’t wait to donate my hair and be bobbed again. I’d built it up so much that I started having trouble eating and sleeping. I was just so excited. Best of all, if I was donating it, there’d be a really good chance it would be braided first. I was absolutely dying to have a braided ponytail cut off.

Then, the day came when I was going to cut it… and I chickened out. The feelings of excitement turned to dread. I remembered how my hair goals always had to do with how long I could grow it. I’d have grown it out to my ankles if I could! And I knew (from experience) that I would regret getting it cut just as soon as the scissors snapped shut.

During those weeks, I told the girl I was seeing that I was thinking about donating my hair, and she thought it was a great idea. She even considered joining me and having her own cut. Her hair was insanely long, she could’ve lost a foot of it without even noticing. For me though, the 8″ pony was all I had. I’d be left with no length at all.

So, like I said, I chickened out.

I told myself I’d keep growing it out until I got back to waist length, then cut it to mid-back. This way, it’d be a drastic cut but I wouldn’t be losing it all. Part of me, however, still ached for the "bob". I loved the idea that, if I went "bob short", not only could I possibly have my braid snipped off, but it would probably be buzzed underneath. At the end of the day, however, I just couldn’t go through with it.

Then, I had an idea. I could donate my hair AND keep it long, if I just cut off all the "underneath" hair. I could keep my length, go through with a donation (hopefully in the form of a braid), AND get my nape buzzed. It seemed like the perfect plan.

I told my girl the plan, and, she wasn’t sure about it. She didn’t really like the look of an undercut, but she was supportive all the same. She didn’t yet know about my hair "interests", though, I’m sure she already had some suspicions.

When I told her my plan, she insisted we cut it right then and there, because I would almost definitely chicken out otherwise. We were driving at the time, which made things a bit awkward. I pulled into the very next parking lot hopeful that there’d be a chain salon or something there where I could get my undercut… but, there wasn’t one. There was, however, a discount store… which she ran into in order to grab some "tools". I really would have preferred a salon, but I wasn’t in any condition to argue (or even stand up) at this point. I wanted the "ritualized" cut. I wanted to be washed, clipped up, braided and banded. I wanted for an audience of people to gather and watch it be cut. I wanted to squirm in the stylist’s chair. But, instead I just sat there, accepting my fate.

A few minutes, which felt like forever, later, she returned to the car with a small shopping bag.

She told me to turn around, and separated my hair into two sections. It felt like I was back in "R"s chair from my pre-high school summer cuts. The part that was going to be undercut was to around the middle of my ears. As I kind of fibbed and told her that donated hair had to be braided first, she tied the underpart together, and weaved it into a skinny braid all the way down to the end.

From her bag, she pulled out a little plastic 6″ ruler… and measured the braid. It was a little over eight inches. She told me she was going to cut, and in barely a single snip, the braid was completely off. She handed it to me, and I remember being so disappointed. It was so puny, so lifeless. Not like the full, thick braids I was watching ladies have cut off in hair donation videos. It was so unsatisfying holding it. I had imagined it was going to be this amazing feeling, holding a heavy, hefty braid that spilled out of my hand. This was definitely not that kind of braid.

I was so transfixed on this puny braid I didn’t even realize what was about to happen. I suddenly felt a sharp pain and tugging on the back of my neck. I soon realized that when my girl went into the store to buy the scissors, she had also bought some of the cheapest disposable razors they had. She had dug this razor into the short tufts of hair that were left at my nape, painfully (attempting to) scrape it all away.

This wasn’t part of my plan.

I assumed I’d just have "short hair" under my long hair. I didn’t imagine for a second that my nape would be (painfully) shaved bald.

After several unsuccessful attempts at shaving me, the went back to attacking the short bits with the scissors, cutting them down to near nothing. I felt the side of the scissors blades literally pressing into my head with each snip. Once she removed enough of the bulk, she went back to shaving me. It was still a no go. She ran back inside the store to get a can of shaving cream.

Once back, I drove us around to the backside of the store so it’d be less likely we’d be seen. There, she massaged and lathered up my nape and was finally able to shave it completely bald. It stung for days… and I both hated and loved it.

It definitely wasn’t flattering, it made me feel kind of ugly… and I hated how much thinner my remaining ponytail felt, but it also reminded me of so many of the more "fetishy" and severe styles I saw ladies be given on some of the hair fetish websites I frequented. That alone made my "new look" a bit more exciting. I didn’t like how it felt when it was "smooth", but about a week later, I really got into the bristly, stubbly regrowth.

Although I currently wear my hair in what might be called an "undercut pixie" (I gave my very openminded stylist a picture of a woman with a long-ish pixie and a very tight undercut " that’s a story for another day), I have never considered doing a "bald" undercut ever again. I highly doubt I ever would.

After this, I wound up growing the undercut out. It felt like it took forever for it to fit back into my ponytail. It was probably the better part of a year before it could. I wound up tossing that skinny braid into my glovebox, and never actually sent it in to Pantene… not that they’d get much use out of such little hair anyway.



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