I came early from work one day to find my husband prancing around the house if full drag. Eyeliner, mascara, fake boobs, leather miniskirt, tights and heels. Needless to say I shocked, not to mention disgusted and turned off. As soon as he noticed me I turned around, slammed the door and drove away. I drove around for a half-hour at least, just fuming. How could he? What kinds of other things was he doing when I wasn't there? Thoughts of divorce entered my mind, but I pushed them away. This is fixable, I thought. I hoped. What I needed to do was teach him a lesson. But how? I parked in one of the downtown parking lots to think. I made sure my cellphone was off so he couldn't call me. That would've made me even more mad.
After a few minutes I looked in the rearview mirror at my own reflection and it came to me like a lightning strike. As clear as day. I knew what I needed to do. My husband loved my hair. It's long and thick, blonde and down to the middle of my back. I'd been wanting to cut it for a long time, but every time I brought it up he talked me out of it. Sometimes he'd use logic, sometimes he'd offer to do something for me, sometimes he'd even desperately plead with puppy dog eyes. I'd given in every time. It's not that I hate my hair. It's looks great and gets me alot of attention both by him and by other guys (which I admit I shouldn't enjoy, but I do).
Yes, today was the day. He'd done something extreme and now it was payback. I looked over the wheel and there happened to be a barber shop across the street. I gathered myself and left the car.
As I walked into the shop I noticed the smells immediately. Very masculine. I'd never been inside one before. The place was mostly empty. The barber was finishing up a client, but the row of chairs were completely vacant. The sound of my heels caught both of their attention and they turned and stared.
The barber said to me, "Can I help you? Are you lost?"
"No," I said. "I'm here for a haircut."
"Okay," he replied with a confused look in his eyes. "Have a seat. I'll be with you shortly."
Nothing about the way I looked was typical for a customer in this place. I had on a pair of hoop earrings and a matching silver necklace, with a skinny business suit and ruffled blouse. My long blonde hair cascaded down my shoulders. I didn't care. I was a woman on a mission.
The man in the chair got up, paid the barber and left. After sweeping up his area the barber motioned for me to have seat in the big chair.
"I don't usually cut women's hair, ma'am," he admitted.
"That's okay," I answered. "I don't want a usual woman's haircut."
"Alright," he said as he threw the cape over my shoulders and fastened it around my neck. "What'll it be then?"
"I want you to shave my head completely bald."
He stepped back. Obviously shocked.
"You do that, don't you?" I asked.
"Yes, of course," he said. "But why."
"I have my reasons, but I don't really want to discuss them. And, yes, I am completely sure."
"Okay," he said. "Here we go."
He pulled my hair back into a ponytail and severed it with his big haircutting scissors. What was left fell forward and hung to just below my chin. I smiled. Finally, I thought. I finally get to cut my hair and my husband can't say anything about it.
"If you would lean forward," said the barber.
I did and heard a pop followed by a low hum. The next thing I felt was like a vibrating massage at my nape moving steadily up to the crown. This happened again and again until he positioned my head upright again. I could see the clippers moving toward my forehead and then the feeling again on the top of my head. It felt really nice. I didn't want him to stop, but eventually he was finished. I looked and saw a completely new me. With no hair to hide behind my eyes really stood out. I had a long, slender neck and perfectly situated ears.
But he wasn't finished. He took a hot towel and laid it over my scalp. It burned initially but then felt good, relaxing. He removed it and rubbed shaving cream all over my head. At last, stroke by stroke, he removed every trace of hair from my head. He finished with a moisturizing lotion which also was nice.
"Would you like me to take the eyebrows?" he asked.
"Not today," I replied.
I reach up and felt my bald head for the first time. I jumped a little with the first touch, but then couldn't stop rubbing my hands all over it.
"Thank you," I said. "I love it."
I paid him and left. As I got in my car I stared at myself in the rearview mirror and touched my scalp again. This look really worked on me. Then I remembered why I was here in the first place. I started to get butterflies in my stomach when I thought about my husband's reaction to my new haircut.
As I drove home I convinced myself that I had done the right thing. I arrived half expecting to find him still in drag, but he wasn't. He was dressed like the normal, good-looking man I fell in love with. As I walked through the door from the garage his mouth gaped wide open in surprise.
"What have you done!?" he protested.
"You don't think this is fair?" I countered.
"But... but..." was all he could come out with.
I continued putting away my work things like nothing had happened.
Finally he broke the silence. "So this is my punishment?"
"You could call it that," I said.
"But this isn't what you wanted, it is?" he asked.
"I probably wouldn't have gone this far on my own, but you pushed me over the edge. Besides. I really like it."
"You're not going to keep it that way are you?" he asked, sounding kind of desperate and pathetic.
"If you promise to give up this cross-dressing thing I'll grow it back," I said.
"Thank you," he said. "I won't let you down. I promise."
And that was that. I started growing my hair back. It was looking a little mangy after a few months but my husband wouldn't let me even trim it. After six months I had a shaggy blonde do with bangs down to my eyebrows.
One day I came home early again from work to find my husband again in full drag. He even had a wig on this time. I was furious. I slammed the door and again went out driving. It didn't take me as long this time to get to the barber shop.
"Hello again," said the barber.
"I want you to shave me again," I said. "And take the eyebrows this time too."
I was still mad, but beginning to calm down. I think the clipper massage is was did it. Once again I was bald. It did look really good on me. Although I was so sure about the eyebrows. I thanked him again and left the store. When I got into my car I had another idea. I rummaged through my purse and pulled out a business card and dialed the number.
"New Image Laser Hair Removal, how can I help you?" came the voice on the other side.
"Do you have any openings this afternoon?" I asked.
"Sure," was the answer. "Can you be here in fifteen minutes?"
"I'll see you then," I said and drove off.
"You understand that this is permanent," said the tech.
"Yes, I do. I had a very good result with my bikini and armpits a couple of years ago."
"And you want to be bald for the rest of your life?" she asked.
"Yes. I am absolutely sure. But just the scalp, not the eyebrows. I think I'm going to grow them back."
An hour and a half later I walked out of the office, well on my way to becoming permanently bald. I came home and opened the door to the house to find my husband back in his regular clothes once again. He wasn't shocked this time.
"I guess I deserve this," he said.
"Yes, you do," I replied. "And I'm not growing it back this time either."
"I've made my decision." I didn't tell him about the laser yet. I still had several more treatments to go through.
"You'll just have to get used to living with a bald woman." I was happy. I hadn't realized until recently that this was what I always wanted. I just hoped I had cured him of his fetish, but somehow I doubted it.
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