Tara is back. by manualclippers

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TARA IS BACK!.

It was sunday morning and the kitchen felt even warme, with sunlight pouring through the small window above the sink. Tara`s s younger sister and parents were visiting, a long overdue gathering that had been looming on my calendar. I should have guessed this would not be no ordinary morning, but nothing could have prepared me for the scene unfolding.
The chair stood in the middle of the kitchen, placed squarely in front of the table. Tara had pulled it out with a practiced, deliberate air. It was time for my monthly haircut, or rather shearing. The" event" i both dreaded and endured. I wasn`t thrilled about Tara`s methodoical approach to cutting my hair-it was practical, quick and decidedly severe-but this time, with her parents and her younger sister as the audience, the situation had taken on a newlayer of awkwardness.
-Sit, Tara said firmly, motioning me toward the chair. The old raincape she draped over my shoulders was grimy, its slick plastic fabric sticking to my neck in the humid air. My face flushed. Tara`s sister smirked, clearly amused by the whole ordeal, while her father flipped idly through a newspaper,adding tension with his silent heavy presence. I watched her oiling her handclippers liberally, before she came to my right side, holding the dreaded clippers up in front of my eyes and clicking the blades. Click clack, click ,clack.
Starting at my right side, she drove the hungry blades into my sideburns, cutting away hair to reveal startingly white skin. I winced as her voice, sharp and determined cut thru the air. " Stop moving your ass around!" she said, pressing my head forward. I obeyed, my head now bent forcefully downward, sweat dripping down on my neck and back.She moved the clippers steadly, mercilessly shearing me to the bone." Short back and sides", she declared, her tone gruff, as though i had a choice in the matter. I head her mother chuckle softly behind me. My embarrassment was complete. I kept my eyes down, fixed on the floor as strands of hair collected on the tiles around me.
The severe cut was nearing completion, and with every click click of the handclippers my humiliation deepened. Tara watched with detatched presicion, inspecting her work as though sculpting a masterpiece. The hot summer air and my discomfort mingled, making the minutes stretch endlessly.
Finally, as she stepped back to survey her work, the grin on her mother and sister`s face widened. I felt utterly exposed, the severe SHB & S haircut leaving me stripped not just of hair but of dignity. This was not just a haircut-it was a ritual, a spectacle i hadn`t signed up for, and i knew it would repeat itself in 30 days. And Tara ? She seemed satisfied, brushing the hair off my neck and shoulders with an air of finality. Her family exchanged a glance, clearly enjoying the show. I swallowed my pride, avoiding their amused glances and muttered a soft" thanks" to Tara, though the words felt hollow.
As i stood and dusted myself off, i could feel the sun`s heat on my newly short nape, the sweat prickling on freshly exposed skin. The kitchen returned to its usual hum, as Tara cleaned the handclippers and put them in a plastic box ready for my next ordeal. " Well,John? You know what you are supposed to do now ? It is payback time !!"

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