Epilogue

This is my story, how it all began. Memories of my interaction and contact with haircutting from my early years of adolescence remain equally vivid today compared to the time of experience. My intriguing journey of experiencing haircuts and its effects on me throughout the past decade can be traced as far back as my first few years upon birth.

As a toddler, it was no doubt difficult for me to get a haircut. I was known for my beautiful, soft and straight hair during my younger days, despite being a male. Perhaps that was the case my parents made the decision to let my mother bring me along to the salon she frequented near the district we resided. She would first get caped by the hairdresser, before I get a haircutting cape enveloped over me as well. My mother would then hold onto me snuggly, allowing me to nestle in her embrace while the hairdresser trimmed my hair. As these trips took place when I was still very young, I could not recall exactly how I resembled then. However, some days I would think back and sometimes visualised myself with long, slick straight hair at shoulder length, despite being a guy. Whether I actually had such long hair before in my life will forever remain a mystery, but being able to reminisce about such scenes shined some light on my experiences prior to having full-fledged haircut fetishism.

As I grew slightly older, approaching the age to attend elementary school, things took a turn. Back then, traditional values were still strictly upheld and that applies similar for gender differentiation. While it was acceptable for young, male toddlers to get haircuts at hair salons that primarily catered to females then, I was already all grown up and considered to be past the age suitable to get haircuts in a feminine environment. My father then took over to call the shots, and my experience with haircuts took its first turn. Situated beside the hair salon my mother frequented was a barbershop which my dad got his regular haircuts at. He brought me along and introduced me to his barber, whom eagerly welcomed me into his regular list of clients (or clients’ sons).

Barbershop Pole

My first experience of getting a haircut with a barber was both nerve-wrecking and unfamiliar. The barber would place an additional support onto the intimidating, chrome barber chair, before lifting me on to take a seat. A minute into my first session, I was overwhelmed. Never have I felt so exposed while getting my haircuts. While hair salons do and should have a mirror for their clients, barbershops such as the one I was at was covered in full length mirrors all around, and I could glance a reflection of me almost in any direction within the shop. It made me feel self-conscious of myself during my haircuts, creating a more reserved character in me as I felt shy to speak during my barbershop visits.

With my dad now calling the shots, my hairstyle took a sudden turn. While the female hairdressers at the hair salons have been more than willing to provide me with a longer hairstyle (and possibly the shoulder length hair that I visualised many times in the past decade), that was not the case in a barbershop environment. But it was perhaps this which resulted in the birth of my haircut fetishism.

I could vividly recall how it felt to get a haircut at the barbershop. The barber would tear off a slip of neck strip off the roll, and wrap it tightly around my neck. A haircutting cape usually of a vibrant colour, such as blue or pink would then be tossed in the air and gradually cover over my entire frame, before being tied securely by the back of my neck. It was done this way then as capes in the past did not have snaps or hooks like the more professional ones commonly seen today. He would then proceed to grab a pair of clippers off the hooks below the table where he placed the haircutting tools. The barber would frequently oil the clipper blades, before turning it on with a thud. What follows is frequently a severe clipping of my hair. He would usually place a guard with a length guide over the clippers, before running it swiftly over the back and sides. Following, he would use the large barber shears to give the top some significant snipping. Never once have I left the barbershop without being covered with a load of snipped hair all over me above the haircutting cape. Whatever clippings that did not accumulate on the cape would find its way onto the tiled floors, joining a humongous pile of hair cut off previous clients of the day.

Notably, it was during this stage I began to enjoy the process. I began to like the feel of getting caped, which made me feel like a helpless sheep waiting to be sheared. I began to enjoy the feel of the clippers running over my scalp and clipping away any excess hair the guard did not cover. I began to adore watching sheared hair tumble down my shoulders onto the cape. I began to love getting my haircut, and this was how it began.

As I approached puberty in my early days of middle school, I began to devise of ways to escape the fate of having to get my haircuts at the barbershop. While getting my haircuts at the barbershop remaining quite enjoyable, I craved for more as the years of getting my haircut by the barber has created a thirst for more in my path as a haircut fetishist. It was then I finally discovered a reasonable plot. Noting that the barbershop does not open on Mondays, I planned a scenario where I was caught by the school’s disciplinary master for unkempt hair on a random Monday, but in actual fact did not take place at all. Fortunate enough, it worked and my parents were convinced to let me get my haircut somewhere else in order to prevent me from getting ‘reprimanded’ by the disciplinary committee at school. My mother then suggested me to get it over with at the express barbershop cum salon at the nearby mall. I readily agreed upon the suggestion of being able to escape the grasp of the barbershop.

QB House

These express barbershops cum salons were rising in popularity then primarily due to its efficiency and affordability, and are still quite prevalent today. I could still remember how nervous and excited I was during my first visit to the express salon. What made it more enjoyable was that most of the barbers (or barberettes or hairdressers, however you termed them) were females, something I thoroughly favoured. There was something different between the touch of male and female hairdressers, but words just cannot be used to express such a difference.

However, it was notable that at this point in time, puberty had taken its toll on me significantly. The glorious, slick straight mane I had was no longer present, and in replacement was thick, curly and unruly hair. It was so thick and wiry that most combs could not run through it easily. I didn’t know what caused it then, but some research on the Internet in my later days revealed it as a change in hair texture due to puberty, common to many other people around the world.

Perhaps it was also this reason my trip to the express salon took an unexpected turn. While barbers were quite experienced in dealing with unruly hair such as mine, that was not quite the case for the hairdressers at the express salon. On that particular first visit, I requested for something short and layered (as advised by my mother prior to the haircut). The assigned barberette then asked if I was okay with a very short high & tight haircut, and since I innocently had completely no idea what the jargon meant, I went ahead with it. The result was obviously shocking. She clipped off my entire sideburns and back with the #1 guard on the clippers, leaving just super short stubble in the wake of the clippers. She then cropped the top with a slightly longer guard, leaving me exposed as most of my hair that day was left either on the cape or the salon floor. It may be an unpleasant shock for me, but it was a pleasant surprise for my parents as they welcomed the high & tight haircut, a clean change to the usual, unruly hairstyle I had. They were so pleased that they promised to let me get my future haircuts at the express salon in the future, despite it being slightly pricier. I struggled in coming to terms with the super short hairstyle, but loved the stubbly feel and the coolness when the wind blows.

While the desire for haircuts primarily developed due to the harrowing experiences of the past, as puberty hit in full force, the entire situation took a more intense twist. I began to feel the effects of haircuts on my sexual orientation, and how the visualisation of hair being cropped off either me or another party can actually ‘turn’ me on. The frequent haircuts by the barberettes from the express salon may be able to satisfy, but my mind quickly grew curious for more uncontrollably. In the same mall where the express salon was located, a full-fledged hair salon catering mainly to female customers was also present.

When my parents finally loosened their grip on me and allowed me to get my haircuts on my own, a grand new scheme was in the making. I checked out the hair salon on the 2nd floor where it was situated, and after discreetly researching into the hair salon’s price catalogue, I was pleased to find out that the price for men haircuts was not as pricey as previously thought. It would set me back some $3 dollars for every haircut I get at the hair salon instead of the express salon, and that was a significant amount considering I was still in middle school then, but that was no obstacle to my craving for an enhancement to my haircut experience.

In order to fulfil my plan of getting my haircut at the hair salon this time round, I painstakingly saved up $3 dollars from scrimping on the meals in school. When the time for the haircut finally came, I would add up the $10 dollars that I would obtain from my parents, and pay for the haircut with the additional $3 dollars I had saved.

At the time of the haircut, I could remember clearly how the hair salon resembled. With warm but sufficient lighting, the layout allowed for several salon chairs laid out on both sides of the rectangular-shaped shop space, with the entire wall on both sides covered in full-length mirrors. I was greeted by the front desk receptionist, whom then directed me to a young female hairstylist. Since it was my first time here, I decided to consult her advice for my hairstyle instead of simply asking for something short and layered as per usual. Surprisingly, she suggested that I could grow out my hair more, and recommended a simple trim to keep my hair neat and tidy. I agreed readily, since she was the professional and probably had a better understanding of what would look good.

With that said, she immediately took some tools off her hairdressing pouch strapped by her waist, with the addition of something quite unfamiliar. As she combed through my unruly locks, she used haircutting pins to clasp onto excess hair while she trimmed the lower layers of my hair. The clasping of these pins on my hair gave a slight tingly sensation as its tight grasp on the hair pulled gently on the scalp, but it felt surprisingly arousing. It felt feminine, and this mindset probably branched from the fact that the only time I see these haircutting pins being used were mostly on female customers. I instantly fell in love with how these pins aroused me, and could not wait for a 2nd time as soon as the haircut ended.

My spell with the female hairdresser at the hair salon lasted several years, before I finally made a switch. As time went, she lost consistency in her work, and haircuts became more and more slackly and were noticed by my mother. Furthermore, she had always advocated me to leave my hair longer as advised during my first visit, but it has constantly received unfavourable comments from the teachers and my parents.

Following, I went on to spend several months to a year getting haircuts with two other female hairdressers, one of them still taking care of my hairstyle today. However, inevitably, my journey with her too has come to an end as I am to enlist into the army soon. As per army regulations, I was forced to get my hair fully shaved down to a #1. While it was upsetting to lose all my precious hair (which I valued greatly, and yes I know I’m simply too vain for a guy), the thought of getting all my hair clipped off  prior to the actual day turned me on extremely, especially the thought of a light head and the stimulating sensation one gets when caressing the short stubble.

As expected, I have just got it done earlier and the feeling was remarkable beyond words. The long, lifeless locks tumbling down the cape and settling in your lap, sheared locks thrown into the air after shaved off by the clippers only to land on the cold tiled floor, and the clean-shaved head that makes you feel almost naked. The climax is reached when the clippers run over the top, shaving off the fringe back towards the crown, sending a huge chunk of hair onto the cape. Shaving your head is definitely a must-do on everyone’s bucket list, at least once in an entire lifetime.

Due to the enlistment, Haircut Stories will be unattended for and thus will go inactive until my return in 2016. Thank you for all the support from the readers all this while, and do look forward to the return of Haircut Stories. (On a side note, I do have certain unfinished stories, such as the finale of Janice & The Express Salon. I will see if it is possible for me to finish up these stories during my free time from army life.)

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