A True Story
My wife Megume and I sat in the salon waiting anxiously for her name to be called. We had checked in ten minutes earlier and were told the stylist she had an appointment with was running behind. I sat on the edge of my chair, my heart was racing a hundred beats per minute and I could feel it just about pounding out of my chest. I could not hold still! Megume sat slumped back in her chair, nervously looking around and wringing her hands together. Another five minutes passed and a stylist came to the waiting area and said, “Megume, san.” My wife stood and gave a quick head nod and replied “Hie” (that means ‘yes’ in Japanese). The stylist pointed toward the chair at the back of the tiny salon and said “Hie, dozo” (that means ‘please come’). At that point I just followed along behind her with my stomach in nervous knots at what was about to happen. But before that I had better give some history up to now.
I had been serving with the Navy in Japan, the Land of the Rising Sun, up until two months ago when I got out. My Japanese wife Megume and I decided to stay in Japan. She has a lot of family here and does not want to leave. Besides, I like it and have a good job with Toshiba. We live in a tiny 530 SF apartment in Yokohama. We met at the All Hands Club 2 years earlier and got married on November 16th, 1995 after about 8 months of dating each other. We are really happy together and have decided to wait to have children until we move back to the U.S. in a few years. Hopefully.
My wife is very beautiful. She is 5 foot 8 inches and has a slender but well endowed figure. She does not wear or need much makeup with her beautiful smooth oriental complexion. Best thing though is her hair, of course it is what first attracted me to her. It falls to a razor-straight line about 4 inches past her hips, is very thick and straight, and always has that silky shine. Actually the shine is not natural, she uses this NiponLever product to get the silky shine.
Anyway, Japan has been like a dream for me, all that gorgeous, silky, long black hair. It is rare to see hair much shorter than a chin length bob in Japan. It is a cultural taboo for women to cut their hair short so I guess that’s why. But for a guy with a short hair fetish this is the place to be, days spent on the train staring at long haired beauties while imagining them in the cutter’s chair being buzzed. Long dark locks tumbling to the floor in cascades as the clippers shear their way up and over their heads.
Back in February I asked Megume to cut her hair in a really short crop. I had a picture I had gotten out of a magazine and showed it to her while trying to convince her, but she was unpersuaded. I thought if I kept on she would finally give in and go for it but she would not budge. She kept insisting that she loved her long hair and had had it this way all her life. The arguments continued week after week until I finally left it alone.
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Two more weeks went by and I again started to fantasize of her hair being shorn into a short crop. During love making when she would be on top I would try to imagine her with short hair by pulling it all back behind her head. This thing was not going away not matter how hard I tried to suppress it. That was when I got mad. I’ll never forget that day, March 2nd. I got home from work to find Megume fixing Sukiyaki for dinner. I walked through the kitchen without a word and changed out of my company uniform into jeans and a tee shirt. I returned to the kitchen and lit a cigarette. Megume shot me a disapproving glance, she hates it when I smoke in the house. “What?” I said.
“I don’t like you to smoke in house,” she said.
“So? I don’t like you with long hair!” I said. We argued for 10 minutes about it until I finally walked out on her to have another smoke. After lighting my cigarette I took about three puffs then threw it down. I stormed back into the house and got right up in back of her. Grabbing her hair in my left hand I spun her around to face me. I must have looked pissed because when she turned she was obviously afraid. “You will cut this hair the way I want it!” I screamed. She was frozen in fear, her eyes the size of saucers, and her lip quivering. “Furthermore it will be done tomorrow and I will be there with you to give instructions to the stylist!” I yelled. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes husband,” she said in a meek voice.
“Now call Yoshie san and make an appointment for 4:30 P.M.,” I demanded. She did not hesitate in getting out her little address book and dialing the phone.
“Mushi Mushi,” she said. (That means ‘hello’.) After that all I understood in the conversation was 4:30 P.M. and Yoshie san. She then hung up the phone and told me the appointment had been made with Yoshie san for 4:30 P.M.
“Holy crap! It worked!” I thought to myself. I knew Japanese women were very submissive but I guess I just did not know how until now how to achieve it. The rest of the night was great. I dreamed of her in the short crop I had picked out for her. She was surprisingly affectionate despite my outburst earlier. Maybe I should do that more often, maybe that’s what she wanted all along.
The next day I got off work and rushed home by catching the fastest train I could. When I walked through the door at 4:00 P.M. Megume was waiting. I quickly changed my clothes and out the door we went. “Balloons” salon was just 12 blocks away so we had time to get there. All the way I kept staring at the mass of long thick smooth black silky locks that would soon cover the salon’s cutting floor. I kept my arm around her waist and ran my fingers through the mane trying to get in every last stroke, this made the walk go unusually fast. We entered the salon and checked in with the receptionist Kosue. This is where the beginning of my story continues.
Megume sat right down in the chair and looked at me as the stylist threw the cape around her. Lifting up her hair the stylist fastened the cape around her neck then pulled the stray little long neck hairs out from under the cape. She then straightened out the cape and began brushing Megume’s hair straight down, with each long stroke a could feel the adrenalin pumping. I was getting sick to my stomach. The stylist put the brush down and reached for the scissors. She said something in Japanese I could not understand. No doubt it was “just a trim?” or something, because when Megume replied the stylists jaw about hit the floor. Yoshie san had been trimming Megume’s hair ever since I met her. Yoshie san spoke something very quickly and with a questioning tone. “So des na?!” (oh really?) is all I heard over and over again. All the other stylists were staring. Megume spoke some more to her and then turned her head to ask me for the picture. I took it from my shirt pocket and handed it to the stylist. Her eyes were wide open as she just stared at the picture and sucked air through her teeth (something the Japanese do when they are not sure). Finally she put the picture on the counter and turned to me. As the stylist spoke, Megume translated: she wanted to know how short I wanted it.
“About 2 inches left on top, then I want the sides and back shaved real tight nearly all the way up with the clippers,” I said.
As Megume translated the stylist again started to suck air through her teeth. The stylist finally said “Hie„Hie” (yes„yes). She took the brush in hand and brushed the hair straight one more time then picked up the scissors. Placing her hand atop Megume’s head she forced her head straight forward until her chin touched her chest. It was at this point big tear drops started to roll down Megume’s face, dripping down onto the cape they made an audible “plopping” sound. I felt really bad now but still wanted it done. The stylist handed her a tissue and then once again pushed her head forward. I took a few small steps sideways to get a good angle. The stylist looked at me as if I might change my mind. I just stared stonefaced at her. With that she turned back to the job at hand. Starting from the right she very carefully brought the scissors to Megume’s hair at about collar length. I watched intently as the scissors opened and were slid carefully into the hair. Then “SCHICK”, a long thick black strand cascaded down the back of the chair and to the floor. Again the stylist slid the scissors into the hair and closed them, “SCHICK!”. Then “SCHICK, SCHICK, SCHICK!” long strands of my love’s beautiful hair cascaded to the floor and made a huge pile at the stylist’s feet. I now sort of regretted what I had done as I watched the stylist just step on it as she continued to cut. Hair continued to rain to the floor and Megume was bawling now, the front of the cape was soaked in tears. The stylist again had to push her head forward. Just one lone strand remained of her long mane. The stylist slid the scissors into it and with one last close of the scissors sent it cascading to the floor.
The hair was now cut perfectly across in a shoulder length like bob. It looked really sexy. Megume raised her head and stared at what remained. Tears really started to come now and the stylist handed her another tissue. She looked at me and asked if we could stop. I shot her a cold stare that quieted her. The stylist sectioned the hair off. She ran the edge of her comb straight around Megume’s head at about 3 inches above the ears and pulled it into a ponytail that she fastened to the top of her head with a big toothed clip. The mass of hair looked like it would fall out at any minute. She combed the free hair straight down, the sides falling just over Megume’s shoulders and the back straight down over the collar. I wish I had a picture of this because it looked really cool. With that she opened her station drawer and pulled out a pair of black clippers. She snapped on an attachment of some sort and turned them on. Megume really looked upset and I tried to tell her it was O.K. The stylist put her hand atop Megume’s head as she walked around to the right side. As she brought the clippers up to the wispy hair in front of her ears she pushed her head slightly to the side. Then as if to test the clippers she took off the wispy hairs just in front of her ears. It was really short, I’d say about 1/4 inch. The stylist looked to me and asked, “Di jo bo?” (is it good). I quickly replied, “Hie.” Another stylist came over and held onto Megume’s hand. Japanese women always are supportive of one another. With that the stylist turned back and raised the clippers again and pushed them into the hair. She pushed through the thick hair slowly, hair rained down over Megume’s breast and into her lap. You could actually hear it sliding over the cape. I saw her look down at it and with that she started to bawl again. The stylist made a pass over the top of the ear and then straight up over the ear to the line where the sectioned hair started. More hair rained into her lap. Pushing her head slightly forward she placed the clippers at the base of her nape and plowed them straight up the back of her head and tossed the hair over Megume’s shoulder. Slowly the stylist made pass after pass, all the time the hair in 12 inch strands literally rained to the floor. By now the pile was huge. It looked like a carpet. The stylist annoyingly kicked the hair out of her way as she stepped around to the left side of Megume. She continued up the left side of her head. I could not believe how long this was taking. I really never realized how thick her hair was until now. Hair rained down over her left shoulder and into her lap. I was so busy watching the clippers and hair fall I did not notice just how close to her head the clippers had taken the hair. Her scalp showed right through. It was so much lighter than the rest of her skin. Almost white! With one last pass the clippers finished their job. The stylist took out a smaller pair of clippers and with a comb started to taper the hair at the neck and around the ears shorter. I wanted to stop her because I was afraid it was too short. But then I felt foolish because that is what the picture looked like. I guess I really did not realize how short this cut was going to be. After working her way around she shut off the clippers and took out another pair. Then she brought out another pair, “God, how short is going?” I said to myself. Then I realized they were to be used to define the line up around the ears and the neck. I almost said something because I thought she was going to go shorter at the back.
She brushed over Megume’s neck, ears, and face with a towel to remove the tiny little hairs. Releasing the section from the top of her head sent the big pile of hair tumbling down over the buzzed areas. In fact now you could not even see them. As she combed it out she was spraying it down with water from a bottle. After practically soaking it she took out the scissors again. Placing the comb at her forehead she lifted up a thick section of bangs. She slid her fingers about 2 inches up from the scalp and started to slowly and methodically snip at the hair. It fell right down onto Megume’s lap. More hair was sectioned off and snipped away as the stylist worked her way across the top toward the back of her head. Again it seemed to take forever. Hair was falling constantly now making more audible slides than before across the cape and all landing in Megume’s lap. Then the stylist started on the right side, lifting up sections and snipping them off about 1/2 inch to the scalp. Then the left. I liked this part because you could see the buzz underneath starting to appear and blend with the hair at the sides. The cut was really starting to look like the picture. The stylist worked around to the back and started lifting and snipping thick sections of hair off at the crown. Hair fell to the floor and joined the rest of the black carpet there. You could barley see the floor. The other stylist was softly speaking to Megume as our stylist kept on cutting away. Megume had stopped crying now and was watching the transformation in the mirror. As she finished the back I no longer recognized my wife in the mirror. Her ears, and eyes looked so big. For the first time I really noticed her cheek bone and how beautiful she really was with short hair.
The stylist started to touch up the cut by evening it up. She took little snips here and there and then with the little clippers again started to blend in the almost dry hair on the sides and in the back. She gave it a quick blow dry and applied some sort of gel. That made the short 2 inch hair on top stand up a little better. The cut was done and my wife looked awesome! One hundred times better than the picture we had brought. The stylist undid the cape, brushed over her neck, ears, and face again. Taking the cape away sent the pile of hair in her lap audibly to the floor. The stylist said “Domo Arigato,” then bowed. My wife and I bowed back. At the reception counter I paid the 55,000 Yen ($45.00) for the haircut and we walked home. She said nothing to me the whole way home, even when I commented how sexy her hair looked. When we got home she just put her arms around me in the kitchen and cried. I kissed her sexy neck over and over again and told it was done. She kept crying inconsolably. Finally, she calmed down to tell me she liked it but wanted her long hair back. I turned her around and gave her three hard swats on the butt, she started to cry again. “The hair is gone and it’s not coming back, you will keep this short haircut until I say it’s time to change to something else!” I said. “Do you understand?”
She said, “Yes husband.”
I tenderly consoled her as she came to grips with the short cut she had received, all the time caressing and kissing her on her sexy nape and up around her ears.
She did finally get used to it. I think she has almost forgotten her long hair. I moved all the pictures of us out of sight so as not to keep reminding her. She and I go back to the same salon and to Yoshie san, her stylist about every three weeks to get it trimmed up and she seems to not even mind now. In fact just this last weekend on Saturday I had the stylist take the top down to about 1 1/2 inches and go a little closer on the sides and in back. It’s nearly a flattop now and it looks really great on her.
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