As most of you well may know, I have been in the process of regrowing my headbanging highschool hairband days. Even my bangs are well over a foot in length, with the back being about 15 or 16 inches in length.
One thing that I had never tried back in those olden days (I'd had crazy temporary colors, spiral perms, spikes, etc..) was to get my hair highlighted. I've wondered for years what it would be like to sit there and have my stylist put me through that process; and since I have the hair, and since it is quite a popular thing for even guys to do nowdays, I figured what the heck.
Although I love to hop from salon to salon, ever in search of the hottest looking stylist that i can find in order to have her trim my hair, this time I figured it would be prudent to stick with my tried and trusted friend (and one heck of a babe of a barberette, who by the way has shaved my head on many occasions in the past) Rachel.
I must tell you that Rachel is quite the stylist. Although she lets me have the final say in my decisions about my hair, she is also atuned enough to my wavelength that she can often make well placed suggestions when needed, and even takes a bit of initiative from time to time when deciding to try something a bit different from what we've done before. I trust her, and I love that we have such a great connection. (for those wondering... she's married.) For the longest time I would go in to her to have her shave my head completely bald, and even after I started growing it back I would walk into the salon and her eyes would light up with a mischevious grin as she would ask me if i was going to let her shave my head again. Although I have never directly told her about my fetish side, I'm quite positive that she is aware of it and she plays up to it when she spots the oportunity.
Rachel was a tad surprised when I first told her that I wanted light auburn highlights, but she eagerly took me back to her station to get started. "Have a seat while I get you a clean cape and a cap and then we'll get started." I took my seat, removed my glasses and got comfortable; reaching up to the counter to see what Rachel had been reading in People Magazine just as I had arrived. In no time I had the plastic cap pulled tightly over my hair and tied snuggly under my chin. It was a funny sight to see, but I found it to be rather arousing. I'm not sure, but I think Rachel noticed that as well. She asked whether I wanted just a small amount of highlights to show though my hair, of if I wanted the color to be rather noticeable. I figured I would prefer it to show quite a bit, and I wanted it to match the natural color of my Irish colored goatee (which is quite a mixture of red and light brown during the summer months) so I told her to pull quite a bit of hair through the cap. The tug of the hook was a bit uncomfortable at first. I even joked with Rachel that I didn't think it was possible to pull any harder; to which she replied that she would be more than happy to pluck me bald if I didn't stop complaining. We both chuckled at our joke, but for me that was a sinch that I was doomed to endure a semi permanant pup tent in my shorts for a while longer than I would have cared for. Before long, I had long tufts of hair sticking out from all over my head, looking like a mad barbi doll hair experiment gone terribly wrong. It was time to have my head painted with the coloring. Rachel walked into the back of the salon and returned with a bowl of color being mixed like a easy bake oven mix. Within the next five to ten minutes my head had been thouroughly covered, and my hair was plastered down against the tight plastic cap. It was almost, but not quite, as exciting of a sight as having my head covered in white shaving foam.
While I waited for the color to do its magic over the next 45 minutes, I patiently waited while watching several other stylists give a series of buzz cuts, summer shearings, a bob cut to a very attractive brunette, and saw Rachel take a smoke break in the back office of the salon.
When the goo was washed off of my hair, and I had been conditioned and rinsed, it was back to Rachel's station for a blow dry so that we could see the final results. Although we could see that there were streaks of lighter hair on my head, my hair tends to hold a lot of water and look nearly deep fudge brown when wet. As the hair dryer did its work, it became quite evident that Rachel and the coloring had worked its magic very well. I was extremely pleased, and I tipped Rachel very well to show my gratitude.
As much as I would love to shave my head again, I have to admit that I am having just too much fun with my long hair at the moment. For me the pendulum is reaching towards the opposite extreme at the moment, but I know all too well that eventually the gravity of my mind's desires will begin the swing back to the other direction.