Haircut Curriculum Vitae (Part 2) by GermanCut

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Chapter 4: Facing Life


I realized that I was "lost" in many ways: lost in work, lost in sex, lost in life. I had a hunch that the way to find what is called "the sense of life" was to summon out the person that hides inside me.

This person had three wishes of different qualities.

The first wish: To live as a gay man, have gay sex and find the man of my heart.

The second wish: Not to change jobs all the time, but to be your own boss.

The third wish: To get the look that you’ve been dreaming about for a long time. To get your head shaved finally.

The third wish was that of the lowest level of difficulty. Only two magic words would be necessary: "Everything off!" These words, the construction worker had spoken before he got his head shaved just two meters away from me.
"Everything off!" â€" The bald run began!

When I went for a beer in the pub after a hard day's work, a guy, maybe 30 years old, entered. He was accompanied by a man about twice his age. Both looked very similar; quite obviously they were father and son. Their similarity was particularly striking because both had shiny bald heads. I guessed that both had just had their heads shaved, because their facial tan contrasted with their almost white scalp.
It seemed to me that bald heads were a new experience for them. Again and again, they caressed their heads, and finally they moved closer and rubbed each other's bald heads with intense.
I drank my beer very slowly on purpose and devoured these two hot baldies with my eyes.

The following Saturday I was in the park with two buddies from work. We lay in the sun, while next to us four young men played football. Because it was hot, they had rolled up their jeans over their calves and taken off their T-shirts. A light wind dried the sweat on their wiry bodies as well as on their heads. All four guys were shaved bald.
I lay down facing my buddies, but comfortably keeping an eye on the half-naked, bald shaved lads.

When my buddies and I wanted to go out for dinner that evening and later go to a club, we passed a barbershop, in front of whose door a large group of middle-aged guys blocked the sidewalk. I suspected they came from the village and just wanted to let it rip before they got started. Really all of them had their heads shaved and were posing now for photos. The evening sun let their bald heads shine
"Cool hairstyles!" my buddy shouted at them, holding up his thumbs.
"Special offer! If you order two head shaves, you’ll get the third for free", one shouted back. "Boys, the chairs have just become free!" shouted another. "Come in! Let it shave down to the wood! Three times stripped naked on top!"
But we just laughed and went on.
(Maybe I'll be called "Master of Missed Opportunities" one day.)

That night I hardly slept, and that was not because I had drunk a little too much. There were too many images that went through my head: I saw in my mind pass by all those shaved guys I had met lately.
More than ever, I wanted to join the "bald league".


Chapter 5: The Vision

The next day, a Sunday, was exceptionally hot and humid. I woke up late with a heavy head and then did nothing but sit in the shade on the balcony, read and drink tons of cold tea. I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and imagined how pleasant a bald head would have to be in the heat.

It hardly cooled down during the night.
I stood at the bus stop early in the morning to go to work and felt the sweat on my skin, even though I was dressed in shorts and shirt.

And there I saw him.

Like me, he wore a short-sleeved shirt, shorts and flip-flops and smoked. He was about the same age as me, and his physique was also like mine: medium height, sporty, slim. His skin shimmered slightly from sweat.
He stepped from one foot to the other and looked around, while I could look at him from all sides. Especially his head attracted my attention â€" it was like mine, too!
I had the impression that this guy could be my brother. But his head was perfectly shaved and tanned like his whole body. The bald head looked really good on him. There could not have been better styles!
Up to this point, I had always been a bit afraid that I might look ridiculous without hair. But my "brother" looked good bald. Sure, I’ll look good, too.
The last barrier that prevented me from going bald had fallen.


Chapter 6: Ready to get started

On this day, I would have liked to go straight to the barber after work. But on Mondays, the hairdressers are traditionally closed. So, I had another night of restless sleep.

The next day, I couldn't concentrate on work. I hardly listened when my colleagues talked to me, I kept asking questions. "Are you in love?" a colleague asked me with a smile.
In any case, the symptoms were the same as when you were in love: my heart was beating wildly, contracting with fear and joy. I could hardly wait for the end of the day.

I didn't want to spend a lot of time looking for the optimal barbershop and chose the shop that was close to my workplace. But I walked up and down the street several times before I found the courage to enter.
The barbershop was full. I wasn't the only one who wanted to get a haircut after work. I would probably have to wait longer for my turn, and I was afraid of losing heart in the meantime.
But fate was merciful to me!
A man in his early 60s took a seat in the barber's chair. It's a bit mean to say this, but he was the typical average German man: a little fatter, a loose T-shirt, cargo shorts, sneakers, his hair already quite gray. The neck looked messy and urgently needed to be shaved, and on the top of the head the hair was probably 10 cm long and barely concealed his hair loss.
The cloak was put on him. He looked in the mirror while a broad grin settled on his face.
I knew what this grin meant, knew from many observations what was going to happen.
It was noisy in the shop, and I didn't understand a word of what the man said to the barber. But the barber immediately grabbed the clipper and set it to the lowest setting, while he looked with a mocking smile at his customer in the mirror.
The hairdresser did his work. Beginning at the nape of the neck, he shaved the guy's head bald lane by lane.
The grin did not leave the man's face, became even wider when the clipper reached the top of the head. The long gray hair fell on the cape and exposed the scalp. These few times, which the clipper drove over the top of the head, completely transformed this guy. The shaved version of the previously average man was more open, more distinctive, more masculine. His bald head would attract attention from now on.
The clipper shave was completed by precisely shaving the contours at the hairline with a blade.

The cloak was taken off. Like all newborn bald heads, the guy ran his hand over the bald skull for checking out.
The world had become one more bald head.
I saw him, already on the street, running his hand over his head again, intensively rubbing his neck and the top of his head: a new member of the worldwide movement of bald heads. This was not the last time this head had been shaved! Next summer, or maybe just next month, he might return to go bald again.
Ten minutes later, it was my turn to be transformed as much radical.

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