Digger (digzmania) wrote,

Feels so good - even though it's just a trim

I finally got around to finding a free moment to stop by the salon to get my hair trimmed up. It's the first trim I've had (other than self trims around my ears, and running the #3 clipper guard up my sideburns when I trim my beard) since June 3rd. I have been looking pretty unkempt lately, and it has been driving me crazy.

Just the other day, Karen offered to trim up my neck line for me; but I have to be honest, I don't trust myself to let her near my head with clippers in her hand. You read that correctly. It's not that I don't trust her. I don't trust myself.

When you have been waiting for over 4 years for someone to take the initiative to do something, the urge to nudge them along can be pretty strong. I would probably fake a sneeze, and push my hairline into the clippers; leaving her no choice but to finish. But I know I would end up being mad at myself, because giving into an urge, in the bathroom, is not the way I want something that life changing and dramatic to end up happening. (besides, there's no smoking in the house. at least not with the kids at home.)

At around 4 PM this afternoon, I logged onto the Super Cuts reservation app on my phone, and scheduled an appointment with Denise at 5:15 PM. As soon as my shift was up at work, I clocked out and headed out the door. With it being just a trim, on a Tuesday evening, I knew I would be in and out.

Denise was waiting for me, and took me right back to her chair. We made small talk, about how our Kids' Summer's have been going, while she caped me and got out her trimming clippers. She refastened my ponytail high up on my head, and just before she took the clippers to my neck line she asked, "clean it up and a baby trim all over?" I said, that sounds good.

She took all of the undercut hair at my neck line clean off to the skin. Nothing but stubble left behind as little tumbleweeds of hair rolled off of my shoulders and down the front of my cape to my lap. Until that moment, I had no real concept of just how long all of that hair had gotten. It must have looked worse than I realized. The clippers felt so good on the back of my neck. They tickled and teased the nerves at the back of my head.

Then it was time to outline up and over my ears. She then took out a comb, and started using clippers over comb to clean up the undercut above and around my ears on the right, then left, sides of my head. Even though I had trimmed around there a few times myself, there was a lot of hair coming off from the areas that I just can't reach and see, when trimming on my own.

She finished off the sides with her scissors, before lightly wetting down my hair to comb out the length and trim the ends.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked out feeling much better. She had pulled my ponytail back nice and tight, and smoothed out my hair with some "silky smooth" hair moisturizer. The frizzies were gone, even though the humidity outside was near 90%. My sides and neck looked neat and tidy. Much, much, nicer than when I had walked into the salon.

Karen noticed my haircut, after I had been home for a bit. At first, she seemed like her feelings were a little bit hurt. I surmised that she felt that way because she had offered to trim my hair, and I had then had it done at the salon instead of letting her do it. Like I mentioned before, it's not because I didn't want her to do it. I would LOVE for Karen to trim my hair, and MUCH more. It's me that I don't trust right now.

I haven't been able to keep my hands off of the short stubble at the back of my head.
My undercut goes about an inch into my actual hairline. It's the easiest way to keep it looking nice and neat, when pulled up into a ponytail (that is, when it's trimmed up). The short stubble feels SO GOOD! I almost wish that more of my head was shaved like this, so that I could run my hands over more of the sensitive scalp beneath my hair.

Right now, there is a part of me that would give almost anything to ask Karen to shave my entire head completely bald. To have her sit me down in a chair, then light up a cigarette and blow her smoke into my face, just as she plunges the clippers into my hair at the center of my forehead. I want to feel her warm, soft, hands running across the sensitive, bare, skin left behind by the vibrating clippers. To feel her long, red, fingernails lightly scratch as they run against the growth of the stubble left behind on my head. I want to taste her smoky kisses, as she lathers my head up and shaves me smooth with a fresh MACH 3 razor.

But, alas, all of that is nothing more than a mere fantasy. A hopeless dream.

I've been begging, and pleading, and asking her to do just that exact thing for just over 4 years now. The details, and scenarios (dozens of them) spelled out right here in the pages of my journal. (If you doubt that, just click on the "barberette" tag at the bottom of this entry, and see for yourself.) But she won't read a single word of it.

So, I'll just keep my fantasies in my head. Write about my needs, wants and desires in the pages that only I care enough about to read. And I'll pull my hair into a ponytail, and wait until it's time to go get another trim.

Maybe it's better that way.
Tags: barberette, hair salon, haircut, karen
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