Becoming a Man by Slickhair

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Ever since I was a kid I knew I had this hair fetishism. At that time, I was completely against cutting my hair. Going to the hairdresser was a nightmare. Of course my parents forced me to go cut it every month. There was no way they would let me grow my hair too long.

Every night before getting a haircut though, I would fantasize about getting it cut super short. If I had to cut it, I might as well get it cut properly.

Of course that never happened. As soon as I entered the barbershop, all the excitement was gone and was replaced by fear. Fear of the consequences. The looks on peoples' face, the judgment that comes with it, I was simply not ready to face it all. Finally I would come out of there with a regular haircut that I hated.

As I grew older, my impulses grew stronger until that famous day of July 2002. I was a late teenager then and was away all summer with no contacts with my family. I was working in the kitchen of a family owned restaurant. Quite a small one I must say. That summer, I experienced most of the things that would make me a man. I smoked, I drunk, I partied, and I got my first buzz cut.

As it was the first time I was away from my family for so long I knew I could go crazy with my hair and it would have time to grow. One thing with my parents is that they were no big fans of either long or short haircuts. Of course I couldn't find the courage to do anything during the first 2 months but the idea started to germ in my head.

That week I saw that TV presenter sporting an amazing burr cut on TV. He looked so handsome and was demonstrating such assurance I secretly wished I was him. He looked so masculine and sure of himself, he was quite the opposite of the shy, skinny teen that I was.

The days passed and the desire was growing as much as my hair. Time to go to the hairdresser was coming closer and closer.

One afternoon that I had off, I decided to go to the city to go buy those sneakers I was secretly dreaming of for so long. At that time I had to take the bus and it would take a good 45 min to reach the city. Shopping was fast, I knew what I wanted. I got my sneakers, I felt like a million bucks. All man up, now that I had those shoes, I was the s**t.

On the way back, I started fantasizing about a change of look. With those new shoes, I could be someone else. Someone less insecure, more like that TV presenter I saw earlier that week. I could even buzz my hair in sign of renewal. That way I could show how brave I am to my colleagues and how grown up I've become.

The idea really excited me, but I had never done that before and there were only 2 months left before coming home. The decision was hard to take, split between my desire and the fear of other peoples' look.

I really couldn't take a decision, but I knew I wanted it badly. Anyway on the way from the bus stop to the house, there was my barber. So I told myself that if I met anyone with a buzz cut on the way I would be good for it too.

No one I met that day was sporting a buzz cut. I was sad. That's when I realized I really wanted it at any cost. It was my opportunity.

I stopped in front of the barbershop, back against the wall and I looked around for 2 minutes, looking at people.
That's when I saw my savior. A guy, 23ish years old, was standing there by the fountain, showing his shiny bald head to his friends. He made my day, and well transformed my life.

If others can do it, so can I!
It was decided; I would cut all my hair off.

I entered the barbershop and let the last client get out. Nobody else was in the shop. My usual barber made me sit in the chair and put the cape on.
"What will it be for you, young man, today”. He was used to cutting my business like hairstyle for the past 2 months already.
"I want it very short, all over” I replied, not knowing what kind of haircut was a buzz cut.

The barber didn't reply and started cutting my hair at the back with his scissors. I could feel the comb being very close to the scalp on the nape but getting further away the higher he was getting.

I quickly realized that he was just cutting my hair as usual, but slightly shorter only.

I stopped him: "No, I really want it all gone, like buzzed all over”
"Oh, ok” he replied. "I didn't get it, sorry. Thought you just wanted the usual, only slightly shorter. Well that will be quite a change! Which guard do you want? #1 or #2?”
Of course, at that time I had no idea what the guard numbers meant.
"#1” I answered. I really wanted that super short burr cut the TV presenter was sporting.
"Whoa, that's pretty short. You're sure you don't want a #2 first?” the old man asked.
"Yes I'm sure, I want it all gone”

On this final note he grabbed the clippers, attached the #1 guard and started buzzing all my hair, the back first.

The feeling of the machine against my scalp was amazing. I was really excited about that decision. There was no going back now and it was showing in my pants. Fortunately, the cape was covering my laps.

He moved to the sides and that's when I realized how short #1 was. Probably shorter than 1/8 inch. I had never gone that short before. I started realizing what I was doing. But I couldn't ask the barber to stop now. Half of my head was already buzzed.

He moved to the front and in one go, my long bangs were gone. There was officially no going back now.
The haircut was almost done now and the old man was just cleaning up the edges. I couldn't recognize myself in the mirror. Never had I gotten my hair that short, well that shaved!

He removed the cape and I couldn't stop caressing my head. The feeling was amazing. As I was pushing my hand from the front to the back I could feel the stubble resisting and the scalp move. I was in Love. The cut hair at the tip was so sharp. It was like having spiky hair, really strong short spiky hair.

I paid the barber and left.

The air on my head was so fresh, it was the first time ever I felt the wind caressing my scalp.
I met some people on the streets and although I was wearing a hoody, I let my freshly shaved head show. People I crossed stared at me. I think it was really obvious that I had just shaved my head due to the color difference between my face and my scalp. But I didn't care, I was proud of what I had done. I was a man now.

Well that was at first. More people passed by and really looked at me strangely. I finally decided to put the hood on.

Once again, the feeling was amazing. The hood was like glued to my stubble, like a Velcro. I rubbed the hood against my head several times until I finally reached my place.

That night I really didn't sleep well. All the fear of my colleagues' reactions and the feeling of my scalp on the pillow were stopping me from sleeping.

The next day at work, my colleagues unexpectedly loved my new haircut, even if they could not believe their eyes. They rubbed my head, made jokes, but finally I was worried for nothing. I was just hoping that the hair would grow back before I returned home to my parents, which obviously didn't exactly grow long enough…

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