Biography of My Hair
A Biography of my Hair by Debbie
Well, I may not have put my hair stories in the best order so I am going to compile here a little chronology, or whatever you call it, of my hair through the years. All my life I have had fairly short hair, the longest being a shoulder bob style. Anyway, here it is.
Age 12 – I have a fairly ordinary bob style. As I hit puberty I then unknowingly in an innocent sort of way realise that hair and the cutting of it is a turn-on. Hence many a cropped Sindy doll in my early youth.
Age 13 – I ask my then hairdresser to cut it short this time which resulted in it being short over my ears for the first time. The style was pretty bland and not very nice but I almost exploded with fear and excitement in the chair. I got compliments, from those who noticed and the seed was planted…
Age 14 – Change of stylist. I develop an interest in having hair shaved off. At one point I shaved off some of the hair under my fringe at the forehead. I have a ‘widows peak’ hairline and shaved off the front point of hair, eventually shaving a little invert into the hairline, this was hidden from view, except from the regrowth being discovered by my hairdresser, which was impossible to explain. Then came the infamous bowl cut (see story) – my first ever clipping that turned out to be my first and last real shaving.
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Age 15 – My hair grows back. I change stylists back to the one who first cut my hair short. It grows to a long short cut until one day when I’m nearly 17, I ask for something different. The result being a bowl type with clippered neck, not a very flattering style looking back, it never seemed to look right since I would never have the top too short at this point.
Age 17 – The awkward clippered style grows out completely and by the age of 19 my hair is as long as it ever was (boo I hear you cry!). I have a shoulder-length bob that I take with me to university at the age of 21.
Age 23 – I go to a new salon away at uni in the city. Asking for something different (“I trust you to do whatever.”) I get cropped again (yeah!). In these expensive salons you feel intimidated and tend to just sit there and get what you’re given. It’s a choppy crop, not clippered, but considerably short, longest 2 inches on top if that. My subsequent trim just didn’t look anything like the first cut, which I did really like. Another thing about swanky places you get what stylist, oh no sorry – artistic director – you are given. So I change to a place round the corner, very cheap, very, very friendly and the best stylists I’ve ever known. Also I discover the hair community on the Internet and it blows me away. Unfortunately I only have access at uni and can only sneak peaks here and there, no time to write my life story 🙂
Age 24/25 – I begin hearing voices in my head. “Have it shaved again, you know you want to.” The hair community also reiterates my desires and one fine day I have my nape clippered again. I can’t remember this cut though; there were many subsequent trims at this salon. The crunch came last April, my hair really didn’t need cutting but I was bored one day and the feeling just took me, a little touch-up would be fun. So I go to my local and as it was a Saturday it was quite busy, but nearing the end of the day. The girl on reception I didn’t recognise but she said she could do me right now, perfect since I didn’t expect to get in at all until the next mid-week.
“So what are we doing then?” she asks.
“Oh, just a real good tidy up, bit more style back into it.”
“How long was it since you last had it cut,” she asks.
This question is asked by a stylist so they can gauge how short you normally have it cut. At this point my devil horns begin to grow. “Oh, ages,” I lie. (You can probably see what’s coming)
“OK so we’re going real short then, spiky on top?” She picks up the clippers.
Now I had convinced myself I was just going for a touch up but as the clippers begin to stroke right up my head I think to myself ‘OK Mr. Fetish, you got me.’ She pressed hard with the clippers, something no one else has done and when shown the back I asked her to do it a bit more, when she finally switched them off she had gone all round my head three times, leaving the top with the number two. Pressing harder must have meant it went as short as a grade two possibly can. God it felt good. I remember thinking, ‘Go for it girl, give me a good clipping!’ She even took it up the sides and that’s when I really realised this was no ‘tidy up’. She snipped and snipped at the remnants on top, taking my fringe almost right off, leaving a choppy, very cropped spiky look. Millimetres shorter may as well have been a crew cut, I suppose it was to some. The best thing was though it still had style, it still looked feminine. As I left my regular stylist looked over with a big grin, curiously saying nothing. I was all smiles though. Walking home I didn’t look like myself in the shop windows and I couldn’t stop rubbing my head. It was the first time I could rub my head and not spoil the style. Wonderful! Since then it’s gradually got longer again, my regular stylist got back to it and it didn’t go quite as short. After that I moved again, now my stylist is one of us I’m sure and my first hair story tells of my recent encounter with her.
Well folks, that’s it. I may expand on some of these if you want me to. Failing that I might come up with some fiction stories. Yes, this is all true.
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My crop is growing again, but things are happening in my life so it’s touch and go whether a new super short buzz is on the cards. If it is I may visit a barber and do some research for my next novel 🙂
Take care all – Debbie Xxxxxxxxx