Alana Headshave

My stomach lurched as I walked hesitantly toward and then, more rapidly, past the doors to the luxury barbershop for the third time, my mind an agony of indecision.  I was like a starving she-wolf pacing warily around the fresh meat that it knows means a trap.  The siren song of my own hunger was in full cry. Despite the voices warning me of dire consequences if I didn't abandon my plan, my need compelled me to continue.  Surrendering to that need and silencing the voices that shouted at me to stop, to abandon my crazy idea, I threw out the caution that I had clutched for so long like a bundle of favorite old clothes now in rags.  My determination renewed, I turned around and strode purposely back to the doors. 

The decision now irrevocably made, I reached for the handle on the tall glass door, grasped it firmly and pulled it open.  Stepping onto the black and white tiled floor and into the glass and chrome establishment resulted in a rush of adrenalin, as though I had somehow slipped into an era decades past.  Everything appeared to be newly installed.  Six chrome barber chairs with maroon colored leather seats and backs lined one side.  Mirrors with shiny chrome frames were fastened to the white walls above the white marble counter top that ran from end to end above the white cabinets with chrome drawer and door handles that supported it.  Ornate ceiling fans with Victorian style light shades rotated lazily.

It seemed like a place that would have been familiar to F. Scott Fitzgerald's Bernice.  The four barbers wore smocks with pockets where they kept many of their tools.  Even their hair seemed to be from a bygone era, pomaded and slicked back.  The single woman barber's hair was similar, but longer and dressed in deep waves that crossed her head from ear to ear ending in a carefully sculpted nape tapered closely – a perfect shingle.

Each of the barbers was working quietly and skillfully on three men and a woman.  Three customers, two men and another woman, were sitting on white wicker arm chairs with white seat and back cushions.  A pair of matching wicker love seats separated the arm chairs.

“Have a seat ma'am.  Someone with be able to take care of you in a few minutes.” one of the barbers greeted her.

I nodded in response, not yet trusting myself to speak.  I reached for a magazine in the holder beside my chair and found that I had retrieved the several page slick brochure describing the barbershop's origin in the nineteen twenties and how it had been maintained and kept up to date without changing its décor.  It also described the shop's services in some detail and give the prices for each.  I had read it before.  What I sought was described in two short paragraphs – paragraphs that I could almost recite from the times that I had read my own copy of the brochure. 

Even so I read it once again and once again experienced the indescribable tangle of eager anticipation and prescient trepidation at what I was going to do and what the consequences might be.  I had harbored the latent desire for more than half my life.  It had been triggered in third grade when Mother took me to visit one of my cousins.  Tamara had recently returned from the hospital where she had received her chemotherapy and radiation treatments for cancer.  I had been told that Tamara didn't have any hair, but to actually see her had a much more visceral impact.  Tamara was upbeat and very active.  She didn't act as though she had the slightest concern about her baldness.  She even invited me to feel how soft and smooth her head felt.

When, during one of our later visits, I ventured to tell Tamara that she looked very pretty,  she laughed and admitted that she liked being bald although she didn't like the reason she was bald.  That had an impact on me.  Some time later I had asked my Mother if I could get my hair cut so I could be bald like Tamara, but Mother had laughed and said something to the effect of  “You're just being sympathetic with Tamara.  You don't really want to be bald.  Girls are expected to have hair and you have nice hair.”

I didn't broach the subject again.  I did keep visiting Tamara, who remained bald most of the time for the next several years as her cancer recurred and she went through another round of therapy.  It seemed to me that Tamara was happier when she was bald than she was during those brief times when her hair had started to grow.  That impression was verified by Tamara.

“You act as though you like being bald Tamara,” I had told her once when we were twelve.

“Well, actually I do.  Having hair is a bother, especially when you're feeling lousy.  Anyway I'm so used to being bald that I think I look better as a bald girl than I would with hair.  I'll bet you'd look really good if you were bald.  You ought to get your head shaved,” Tamara teased me.

“No way!” I replied, but the remark, made in jest, wormed its way into my sub-conscious although I didn't quite recognize it then.

I continued to visit Tamara and we become quite close.  Tamara and I had passed our fourteenth birthdays when a telling event occurred. Tamara had remained bald most of the time as she battled her disease.  It was Summer and I was visiting Tamara knowing that she would be going back to the hospital for some additional treatments the next week.  It was during that visit that I experienced an event that played a large role in my developing desire to be bald.  When I arrived Tamara recruited me to do her a favor.

“Come on Alana.  You can help me shave my head,” Tamara said as she headed toward the upstairs bathroom.

“What!  You want me to shave your head?” I blurted out in surprise.

“Isn't that what I just said,” Tamara laughed.

“But why?  Isn't it just going to fall out anyway?”

“I hate it when it does that.  It looks horrible – little patches of hair and bald spots.  Ugh!  Besides I'd rather be bald anyway, so why not just keep it shaved.  I just got lazy or I'd have shaved it before now.  So come on and help me get it done.”

“OK.  You do look good with a bald head.”

“I know.  And you'd look good with a bald head too.  Some day you should try it,” Tamara told me – this time in all seriousness.

“Maybe I will some day, but not today,” I giggled.

So I took on the task of giving Tamara a head shave using a triple bladed razor that Tamara had handed me.  Tamara coached me, explaining that I should shave upward in the back and sides and from front to back on the top in order to achieve the best results.  It was toward the end of the shave that Tamara asked me to apply a moisturizer after she wiped off the last remnants of the shaving cream. 

“That feels so good Alana.  I really love having someone massage my head when it's nice and smooth like this.”

“It seems kind of weird to be doing it.  It's a wild feeling to be massaging the head of a bald girl,” I laughed, but I found it rather exhilarating.

Tamara's obvious enjoyment of the massage was yet another factor that intensified my already positive thoughts regarding baldness on girls and women.  My attitude had undergone a subtle shift over the years and now that shift was nearly complete.  I was sure that someday I would become bald.

For the next three years Tamara and I were best friends as Tamara continued to live her life with an enthusiasm that belied the prognosis that had been made.  She never wore a wig and regularly insisted that she enjoyed being bald and liked the way she looked although she didn't much care when she was feeling rotten from the effects of the chemo.  She never allowed her hair to grow between her bouts of treatments.  She had declared that even if she eventually conquered her cancer she would keep her head shaved. 

I begun to harbor a strong desire to join Tamara in baldness.  I tried to imagine what I would look like as a bald girl.  In my mind I looked beautiful and sexy.  I even devised a plan for when and how I would get my head shaved right after we graduated from high school.  I would donate my hair to that organization that makes wigs for kids with cancer.  That would be my excuse, but I would keep it shaved herself afterward.

I was devastated when Tamara did not make it to her Senior year in high school.  I was deeply hurt and put away everything that reminded me of Tamara.  I had a scrapbook full of pictures of Tamara and myself, together and separately, but I had avoided looking at it during my last year of high school and during college.  Of course my plan for having my head shaved bald was set aside as well.

Only two weeks earlier I had graduated from college and returned home for the Summer while waiting for my official acceptance at graduate school.  I had determined to clean out my stuff since it was unlikely that I would be living at home again for any significant period of time.  I was sorting through old note books and other paraphernalia and came across the photograph album.  On impulse I opened it and browsed through it reviving my memory of Tamara.  The hurt had receded with time and I could enjoy the fond memories.  I stopped at one particular image,  Tamara had a huge smile on her face, her head gleaming.  She was, quite literally, radiant.  My memories returned in a flood of emotions of the times I had been with Tamara and witnessed Tamara's joy in life along with her unexplainable preference for being bald.  It all brought tears to my eyes which I had blinked away and wiped with the back of my hand. Thinking about Tamara had also reawakened my long suppressed desire to experience what it would be like to have my head shaved. 

It took two weeks for my thoughts to coalesce and for me to accept the fact that I had an intense desire to have my head shaved smooth.  I resisted the impulse until one moment when I was looking through the album again and remembering how Tamara had teasingly suggested that I would look good if I were bald.  The parts of the puzzle in my mind fell into place. 

I would get my head shaved in memory of Tamara.  I quickly made plans.  I found what I wanted in the full page ad in the yellow pages.  A search on the internet led me to several articles describing it as a unique and luxurious barbershop/spa that catered to both men and women.  I printed out the brochure that was offered in PDF format and read the description of the deluxe head shave.

Even with my plans made and a schedule established, the actual process proved to be much more difficult that I had imagined.  I had not anticipated the conflicts in my mind that seemed to be unresolvable as the fateful day approached.  Those conflicts were finally resolved as I was on the verge of retreating.  My determination was undiminished, but still the anxiety remained.

Now I'm sitting inside the barbershop waiting my turn.  It would not be long.  One of the men had already responded to the call of “Who's next?”  Another of the barbers seemed to be nearly finished with his customer, a woman with a carefully tailored bob that featured wide bangs and sides that angled steeply from below chin length to a point that was as high as the top of her ears.  The nape was closely clipped with a distinct sharp “V” hairline that mirrored the inverted “V” of the bob's weight line above it.  The barber had removed the paper around her neck and used his finishing clipper to remove a few stray hairs that were growing where the paper had been.

The woman barber was nearly finished shaving her male customer who sported a sculpted flattop with completely shaved sides and back.  I watched the last few strokes of the razor in fascination as the woman barber shaved down the back of the man's head and down his neck.

The woman with the bob had stepped down from the barber chair and was at the counter where she paid her bill.  Her barber went back to his station and shook out the cape as a young woman swept up the hair that was on the floor.

“Next,” he intoned.

The man who preceded me stood up and stepped briskly to the open chair.  My anxiety gave my stomach an unwelcome knot as I contemplated the imminent call of “Next” knowing it would be for me.  I swallowed and watched the woman barber make change and accept a tip from the man whose hair she had cut to his entire satisfaction.

The woman barber briskly walked back to her station and tidied it a bit while the floor was being swept clear of hair.  Finally she turned back to the waiting customers.

“Next,” she said in a clear, but not loud voice.

I stood up and suffered a momentary feeling of dizziness, but managed the few steps to the large traditional barber chair, stepped up onto the platform and sat down on the edge.  After a brief pause I was able to gather myself and pushed back into the chair until I rested stiffly against the leather covered back cushion.

“Good morning Ma'am.  What would you like for me to do for you today?” the barber asked me in her quiet voice, as she tucked the collar of my shirt inside the shirt to keep any hair from landing on it.  A paper strip around my neck followed quickly as I remained tongue tied.

“Ma'am, how should I cut your hair?” she asked again as the cape was fastened snugly over the paper and the paper folded down over it.

I swallowed, licked my lips, and cleared my throat, determined to answer in something other than the squeaky voice that threatened to emerge.

“A deluxe head shave, please,” I answered, relieved that I had regained my voice and some measure of my composure.

There was a short pause as the woman barber looked at me in the mirror.

“Special occasion?” she offered as she picked up a large clipper.

I was instantly relieved.  There would be no questioning of my motives or my sanity.  “Well, sort of.  I've had the desire to do it since I was a little girl.  I had a girl friend who kept her head shaved for years.  She had cancer, but she never let her hair grow even during several long periods of more than a year when it was in remission.  She liked being bald.  She said I'd look good with a bald head.  I'm doing it in memory of her, but mostly for myself,” I suddenly found herself confiding my innermost thoughts to this complete stranger.

“You will look good with your head shaved.  I'm ready to start if you're over your jitters.”

“I'm over them.  How did you know?”

“I think barbers, especially women barbers, should be required to take some courses in psychology and counseling.  It was very obvious to me.  I've seen the symptoms hundreds of times,” she laughed softly.

“Of course.  It is a rather radical thing to do.  Have you shaved many women?” I asked, suddenly finding myself at east with this calm soft spoken woman.

“A handful – no more.  Most who come in with that idea can't quite bring themselves to follow through and end up with a buzz cut or something even less dramatic,” the barber said.

Finally I glimpsed the small plaque above the left corner of the mirror that identified my barber as Wanda.  At that point she had already started to use her Panasonic battery operated clipper with the gold colored teeth.  It functioned with no apparent effort as it removed my hair.

At the first touch of the clipper I had experienced a tingle down my spine followed by a rush of adrenaline at the first pass of the clipper up behind my ear.  Butterflies suddenly awoke in my midsection and I clung desperately to the arms of the chair as a wave of vertigo engulfed me. 

Wanda had halted.  She waited patiently as I began to recover my equilibrium..

“OK?” she asked softly.

“Funny feeling.  I got the shivers and then I got light-headed.  I'm OK now.  Go ahead,” I responded.

“You'll be fine.  Clippers can do that to you the first time.  And You're doing something that's more than just a haircut.  Even women who come in for a buzz cut or just a short haircut that requires the use of a clipper get it.  Nothing unusual about it,” Wanda reassured me as she resumed her clipping.  She proceeded confidently as though it was a perfectly ordinary request.

Wanda clipped the sides and back.  Now she placed the clipper at the middle of my forehead and pushed it back to the crown of m head.  Several passes later the top of my head was bare except for the short bristles left behind by the clipper and my emotions were whirling about like the most frenzied dancers in India that I had once read about.  Somehow I could see a new person emerging.

As Wanda continued, now removing the remaining hair on the sides of my head, the whirling subsided and I saw the person in the mirror smile as her head was rapidly denuded.  I knew immediately that I liked what I saw.  I was also have some unexpected reaction in the area of my loins.  That surprised me and I took a deep breath trying to control it.  Wands halted again.

“It's better if you don't try to hold back.  Just relax and let it happen.  It's perfectly normal if you have a thing about hair, and it's obvious that you do.  Just try not to wiggle too much,” Wanda said with a smile that Alana saw in in the mirror.

“It's embarrassing,” I replied.

“Not at all.  It's a perfectly natural reaction.  It may happen again later when I shave you.  It happens to quite a lot of the women who've asked for short haircuts. ”

“You like giving women short haircuts?” I couldn't keep from asking.

“Hum.  I do.  Most women look much better with a very short haircut – buzzed or shaved smooth is even better.  It emphasizes their features.  How do you plan to keep your head shaved?”

“I.....ah.....  I hadn't given that any thought,” I said taken aback by the question.

“You should keep it smooth shaved, just like I'm about to do it for you.”

“I guess I should think about it.  I really hadn't thought about keeping it shaved smooth for any length of time, but I do want to stay bald for at least a while.”

Wanda was in the process of applying shaving cream to my head and carefully massaging it to soften the bristles. That. Of course elicited some mote unexpected responses in my nether regions.  She continued for a while, letting me digest our last exchange and also experience the luxuriously sensuous feeling of having my head gently massaged.

“Oh my God!  Now I know why my cousin Tamara loved having her head massaged,” I exclaimed as the exquisite feeling of having my head gently massaged washed over her.

“You'll get an even better one later on,” Wanda assured me.

“I never expected to find it so pleasurable to have my head shaved,” Alana admitted.

“Most women have never had the pleasure of having their heads massaged like this.  If you have a special man in your life you should have him learn how to do it.”

“Maybe I should.  It is so relaxing and erotic at the same time.  I'm going to want to have it done frequently.”

“I'd be happy to shave you as often as you like.  I can even give you a nice discount if you come in regularly like once a week.  I don't think you'll be satisfied to let your hair grow for a week though.  You wouldn't like the bristles.  OK.  Time to get rid of these bristles,” Wanda said as she finished her massage.  By this point I had become completely relaxed.

I watched as Wanda carefully sharpened her razor on the leather strap that hung from the back of the chair.  She laid a small towel over my left shoulder.  Now she began on the left side of my head and, using her thumb, wiped a small area free of the shaving cream.  She took the first stroke with her razor, drawing it forward an inch or so, removing the shaving cream and leaving behind a small area that was free of any obvious hair.  She continued forward with short strokes until she reached my forehead then began shaving down the side of my head..

“It's happening again just like you said it might,” I admitted as I had another wave of the shivers that coursed down my body and raised goose bumps on my arms.

“You have a good case,” Wanda laughed softly.

“I guess I do.  I'll need to keep it shaved if I can get control of myself.  How often should I have it shaved?” Alana asked.

“At least every other day.  Every day is better with hair your color, although the dark shadow won't be as bad as it is for someone with very dark hair.  You'll probably want to shave it everyday until your head picks up some color.  That usually takes a week or a bit more.”

“My cousin Tamara used an electric shaver.  I think she shaved it every day during the last year that she was in remission.”

“That's what you need to do to keep it smooth and looking its best.  It's not as much bother as shampooing, blow drying and styling, but it does take some time.  I expect you'll decide it's worth it.”

“Can I use the same shaver that I use on my legs?” I asked.

“You can, but you might find it a little irritating.  I've finished your first shave.  You look very good.  What do you think?” Wanda asked her.

I had been observing the shave and trying to maintain some semblance of emotional control so I hadn't concentrated on how I looked.  Now I looked at myself critically, turning my head from left to right and trying to see the top.  Finally I couldn't suppress the big smile that threatened to engulf my face as I got my hand out from under the cape and examined my head.

“It's fantastic!  I knew I'd like it, but it's a lot better than I thought it would be.  My cousin Tamara was right.  I do look good with a bald head although hers looked a lot better than mine does.  It was perfectly smooth and always seemed to have a nice skin tone.”

“Of course you look terrific!  Don't worry overmuch about the skin tone.  It will look much more natural in a week or so.  And it will be a lot smoother after your second shave.”

“I think I'm going to have to keep it shaved.  What kind of shaver do you recommend?”

“There are several options.  The Braun shavers do give a good close shave, but the most comfortable is the Panasonic wet-dry shaver if you use it with a shaving oil.  That's what I recommend.  Let's get you silky smooth now.  I'm going to use a hot towel first.  It's going to feel a rather warm at first,” Wanda said as she wrapped the steaming towel around my head as I held my breath in anticipation.

I gasped at the sudden heat, then let out my breath as the towel was tucked in around my head.

“That's hot!” I exclaimed.

“It's feels cooler rather quickly as your head adapts to it.  It cools down too,” Wanda reassured me.

“Oh, right.  It's feels better already – not so hot,” I responded as the initial shock receded.

“It's always a shock when it first goes on your head, but it feels good after that.  I'll be using a hot oil on your head for your next shave.  It reduces the irritation and gives you a silky smooth result.  I'll do the same the next time you come in.”

“I should come in regularly shouldn't I?”

Every Saturday morning would be ideal.  That way you'd have the smoothest possible head for the weekend,” Wanda smiled.

“I think that's what I'll do, but I'll still need to shave it every day won't I?”

“You can skip a day now and then, but you'll feel much better if it's as smooth as possible.  I'm taking off the towel now.  When I've finished your second shave, I expect that you're going to like the result,” Wanda laughed softly once again as she quickly removed the towel.

“I like it already, but maybe I'll like it even more.  I know I'd like to have my head as natural looking as Tamara's.

“A truly hair-free head is always best.  Some women with Alopecia Areata dislike the little patches of hair that sometimes reappear so much that they have their heads waxed to get rid of any hair.  They say that you can see the little patches no matter how well you shave,” Wanda told her as she carefully spread the quite warm oil over Alana head and massaged it a little.

“That's weird.”

“Well, like your cousin, they discovered that they like being bald and want to remain completely bald.  I'm using this special razor for your shave.  I'll be shaving against the grain which will give you a very close shave.”

“OK.  I'm eager to see and feel the result.  I already know that I'm going to remain bald although I'm starting to think about how people are going to react to having a bald woman around.  My Mother is going to have a cow when she sees me,” I giggled a bit nervously.

“How about your work?” Wanda asked.

“I've applied for an assistantship in grad school.  I'll start a Summer internship at the Pottery Factory a week from next Monday.  They need some engineering help to redesign the factory floor and add some new equipment.  It should be a fun project.”

“You're an engineer?”

“Sort of.  I started out as an architect, but I liked doing mechanical design so I switched to mechanical engineering.  Making things that are properly designed for the people who use them and work well is what I like to do.  So it looks like I'm going to be a bald woman mechanical engineer,” Alana laughed.

“Well this razor is right up your alley.  It works well and it's easy to use.  I'm about half way through your shave.”

“I can hardly feel it, but I can see you moving it over my head.  It sure seems to slide easily.”

“It's a combination of the effect of the hot towel and the hot oil.  It's the best razor I've found for shaving heads.  It gives a very smooth shave.  You get a good head polish with this deluxe shave.  Do you want that?”

“Why not!  I've come this far.  Might as well do it all.  I'm beginning to feel very good about my bald head.  I like the way I look.  Where can I get shaving oil and that Panasonic shaver?”

“Most of the better department stores carry the Panasonic shaver.  You can get the shaving oil from us.  Not many places carry it.  I'm almost done with your shave.”

“It looks really good.  I can hardly wait to feel it.”

“Waxing and polishing it makes it feel even smoother and gives it a little color.  First I'll clean off the shaving oil.  I'm using a carnauba based wax.  It's used in cosmetics and food and it's hypoallergenic so it's very suitable for head waxing.  This is the first time for me to use it on a woman.  I have to warm it up a little so it goes on easily.  There!  It needs to set, which takes a couple of minutes, then I'll use my buffer on it to bring out the shine.”

“I think I could do that myself.  Where can I get that wax polish?”

“We carry it.  We'll sell it to you.  It comes from our supplier and it's formulated specifically for using in cosmetics, so we know there are no skin irritating additives in it,” Wanda said as she picked up her small buffer and turned it on.

“There I go again with the shivers. It feels so good!  That's looking really great!  Wow!  It's taking on a great shine,” I laughed, delighted at what I was experiencing and seeing.

“I'm almost done.  You seem to be telling me that you like it quite a lot.”

“It's great!  I love it.  I look really good.  I didn't have any idea just how good I would look as a bald woman.  That polish makes my head look almost completely natural and the shine makes it very eye catching.  It's much better than I imagined it would be.  And it feels wonderful.  I hadn't even thought about that.  I'm going to have a hard time keeping my hands off it, although I going to have to keep myself under control if it always turns me on like this.” Alana laughed.

“I expect that will happen after you've been bald for a while.  You're a good looking bald woman.  Baldness suits you and I'm sure you'll be happy as a bald woman.  You'll be even happier when you become a permanently bald woman,” Wanda said in a quite matter-of-fact voice.

“You think I'll become permanently bald!” Alana exclaimed, completely taken aback.

“I don't think you have a choice.  At your core you're a bald woman.  You'll never be satisfied until you're totally and permanently bald.”

“That can't be right.  I can let my hair grow anytime I want.”

“I don't think you can, but time will tell,” Wanda laughed softly.

“I guess it will.  I'm certainly happy with it now.  I do want to keep it shaved smooth for the a good while, so I'll need some shaving oil and polishing wax.  You did a great job.  Thanks Wanda.  I do intend to come in every Saturday to have you give me a good shave and polish, but I'll do the job my self the rest of the time. 

“You'll get the hang of it quite soon.  I think you'll enjoy shaving and polishing your head.  It will make you feel special and you'll like the way it feels when it's freshly shaved.”

“You very well may be right.  Now that I've experienced what it feels like with a perfect shave,  I'm sure I'll get irritated when it get a little bristly,” I laughed.

Oh, I don't think I ever told you my name.  I'm Alana,”  I told her belatedly.

“Glad to have had the opportunity to give you the head shave that you wanted Alana.  I'll be looking for you next Saturday,” Wanda replied.

With the bag containing the shaving oil and the wax polish at hand I paid my bill and left the shop.  If not ecstatic I was certainly close to it as I walked briskly back to the parking garage where I had left my car, retrieved it and drove toward the large enclosed mall which featured the department store that I favored.  I found my hand straying to my head.  The urge to feel it became almost irresistible as I ran her hand over my sensuously smooth scalp.  I finally had to remind myself that I was supposed to keep both hands on the wheel while I drove.

I located a parking spot a the distant end of a row close to the entrance and enjoyed a little stroll passing several people heading toward their cars.  The parking lot was full and people were coming and going in all direction, emerging and entering the main entrance.  I felt the urge to smile at people as I passed them and realized that I was completely at ease with the attention that my bald head generated.  I looked straight back and smiled broadly at everyone who looked at me. 

A question briefly surfaced.  How could it be that I felt so self-assured as a newly bald woman walking casually into a busy department store where I would be seen by scores of people as I made my way to the second floor where the personal grooming section was located?  Why is that so surprising I asked myself? I answered my own question:  After all this is what I've been dreaming of doing for years.

I arrived at the personal grooming section and looked around for the women's shavers.  They seemed to be scattered in various locations.  Giving up I looked for a clerk.

“Excuse me,” I said getting the attention of the nearest clerk.

“Can I …..uh, er.  Can I help you?” the clerk stammered.

“Yes.  I'm looking for the Panasonic wet/dry shaver.  It was recommended as the best shaver for keeping my head shaved and not being irritating,” I responded with a broad smile.

“It's right over here.  I'll show you.  Are you in that play about a woman with cancer who is undergoing cancer treatments that make her bald?”

“That would be a good excuse for having a bald head wouldn't it?  But no, I just wanted to be bald so I had it shaved today and now I'm getting what I need to keep it shaved as smooth as I can.  My barber recommended the Panasonic.”

“Here it is.  It's rated as one of the least irritating shavers and does give a very close shave.  I've sold several to guys that keep their heads shaved.”

“Good!  I'll take it.”

“If you don't mind me saying so, you look very good with a bald head.”

“Well, thank you!  It does feel exactly right for me.  It hasn't been an hour since it was done, and already I feel as though I've been bald forever.  It feels perfect, which is odd I suppose, but I feel much more like this is me than I did with my shoulder length hair.”

“I guess you really wanted to be bald.  Shall I put your receipt in the bag?”

“Sure.  Thanks very much for your help.”

I waltzed out of the store, somewhat amazed, but delighted with my first encounter with another woman.  My self-assurance had grown as I heard myself talking easily and unselfconsciously about being bald.  It was an important boost and my sense of having done the right thing grew.

On my way home I exulted as once again I explored my sleekly smooth head, finally ordering herself to stop and pay attention to my driving before I had an accident.  It was then that a little anxiety emerged as I reminded myself that I would have to deal honestly with my Mom when I arrived.  Well, I purposely kept my plan to have my head shaved to myself, because I knew that Mom would be aghast as the very idea and would use all her considerable powers of persuasion and her parental influence to convince me not to go through with it, I said to myself as I prepared for what might be a rather painful confrontation.

I parked on the street in front of the house, sat quietly for a few moments, then reached for the two bags that I had deposited on the passenger seat.  Finally I exited, closed the door behind me and clicked the button on the car key to lock the doors.  I paused once again, took a deep breath, exhaled and walked through the front gate and around the side of the house to the back where there was a good chance that I would find Mom, Eleanor, tending her beloved roses.

Not finding her there I went inside.  I was for a tense few minutes, but I thought I was prepared for it.  I decided to make herself some toast with hummus for lunch while I waited for Mom to show up.  I had decided not to seek her out in the master bedroom where she was likely to be, but simply wait until she appeared.

I looked in the vegetable drawer in the fridge to see what kind of fruit might be available.  There were some pears and I selected one.  As I closed the door on the fridge, Mom arrived in the kitchen from the door behind me.  I recognized her footsteps.

“Alana?” Mom spoke,  her voice bright with questioning shock.

“It's me Mom.  I just got back.”

“Wha ….....” her voice trailed off as I turned to face her.

“Can I fix something for you for lunch?” I asked casually.

“Lunch ….?”  she finally got out, obviously completely flustered.

“I'm having some wheat toast with hummus,” Alana volunteered.

“You hair ….... what ….?”

“It was something I've dreamed of doing.  I needed to do it.  I had it shaved off this morning.”

“For heavens sake why?” my still nearly speechless Mother finally asked

“Well, I've wanted to have my head shaved since I was eight years old.  It's partly in memory of Tamara, but it's mostly for myself.  I've always wanted to be bald.”

“Is there something wrong with you?” my utterly perplexed Mother asked.

“Nothing Mom, unless having a very strong desire to have a shaved head means that there's something wrong inside my head,” I answered with a little laugh.

“How long are you going to keep it like that?”

“I'm very happy with it Mom.  I want to have it become very natural, with a little color.  I like it smooth and polished like this.  I have no plans to let it grow again.”

“But your work and graduate school – what about that?”

“I don't think that's a problem at all.  I don't need to have hair for my job this summer and I can't imagine why anyone in graduate school would have any reason to object to me having a bald head.  After all, guys do it all the time.”

“But you're a girl!” she exclaimed.

“Why should that matter?  You remember that story my Grandmother told me how her Mother was quite upset with her when when she started wearing trousers.  Girls and women weren't supposed to wear trousers.  They were men's clothes and it was not feminine!” Alana responded a bit more forcefully than she intended.

“It's not the same,” Mom said somewhat plaintively.

“It's really the same Mom.  Women have adopted the same practical clothes that men wear, they do almost all the skilled jobs that men do and they can adopt a shaved head if that's what they like.  I, for one, like it very much.”

“You're going to keep it like that?”

“Yes, Mom,  I'm going to keep it like this.  I feel more like myself and more free to be myself than every.  This is the way I want to be.”

“What will Matthew think?”

“Matthew?  What about Matthew?” Alana asked perplexed.

“He called this morning and left his number.  He wants you to call him back.”

“You have his number?” I asked excitedly.

“Yes.  I wrote it down and stuck it on your door.  How's he going to react to your ….. you?” Eleanor asked, not able to get out the dreaded words.

“I don't know, but I intend to find out,” I said with my most mischievous grin.

“You don't care?” Eleanor asked.

“Of course I care!  I like him a lot.  The question is does he like the real me or just some fantasy vision of the girl of his dreams.”

“I don't understand that.  He's always liked you the way you were.”

“I'm speaking of the real me, not just my external appearance.  What you see is the real me.  It's the way I want to be and the way I want people to see me.  Having hair on my head is not the real me.  It's just a facade.  I need to call him.  I'll be happy to help you with dinner if there's anything you would like me to do.”

“Your Dad is going to be shocked.”

“Maybe he will be.  I'm not so sure.  We'll find out.  You didn't answer my question about dinner.”

“It's a simple dinner – not much too it.  I'll let you know if I need any help.”

“OK.  I'll be available.”

I picked up the bag that held my purchases and headed to my bedroom down the hall.  I took the post-it note off the door and closed it behind me.  After taking a moment to compose myself, I opened the box and took the shaver out along with its charger and the instructions.  A quick reading indicted that it needed to be plugged into the charger.  The shaving oil and polish went into the cabinet on the wall beside the sink in the bathroom.  I went back to my desk and gathered my thoughts.  Despite my confident tone when I spoke of Matthew I felt some trepidation about talking to Matthew and especially how he might react to finding that I had become bald.  Still I was determined to face it calmly and positively.

I dialed the number on the post-it paper.

“Hello Alana.”

“Hi Matthew.  Are you in town?”

“Came in last night.  I'm here for the next two weeks.”

“That's great.  How are things going?”

“Quite well.  My project is working out better than I thought it would.  I'll have my MS by next spring.  So I thought maybe we could celebrate a little if you're not too busy.”

“I'd love to celebrate with you.  What do you have in mind?”

“I can't afford anything fancy, so how about dinner at Red Lobster and a movie afterward.”

“Sounds great.  I don't do fancy anyway,” I laughed, “but I do have something to confess to you so you won't be too shocked when you see me.”

“Such as?”

“I got my hair cut off.”

“A short haircut.  That's no big deal.”

“Not just short – all off.”

“Very short then.”

“Not just very short – none at all.  People are going to stare at us, or rather me wherever we go.”

“Oh!....” Matthew said.  A long silence followed.

“Matthew.  Are you still there?” I asked as the silence became prolonged

“I'm here. I don't know what to say.  Did you shave your head?  Is that what you're telling me?”

“I didn't do it.  I went to a barbershop and had a woman barber shave it for me.”

“What's the occasion?” Matthew asked.

I burst into laughter, then calmed herself.

“What's so funny?”

“I'm sorry Matthew.  I wasn't laughing at you.  The woman barber asked me the same question. 

You remember Tamara don't you?”

“Sure.  She was your cousin that had cancer.  You and she were very close as I recall.  You were both Juniors in High School when we started dating.  She didn't have any hair because of her chemo.  So what does that have to do with you shaving your head?”

“It's a little involved, but the gist of it is that I've wanted to have a bald head like hers for a very long time.  Today I indulged myself and did what I've always wanted to do.  Do you still want to celebrate with me?  I could wear a hat or a scarf I suppose.”

“You wouldn't like to do that would you?  I can tell from your voice.”

“No.  I want to be the real me.  I'd prefer to be who I am and not try to hide it.  I feel very good about myself with a bald head.  Tamara loved having a bald head although she hated the reason she was bald.  I don't have that issue.  I just want to be bald.  Other than that I'm the same person.”

“That's what I'm hearing.  Most of the movies have their last show at about ten.  We might have a wait at the Red Lobster.  So when should I come by to pick you up?”

“How about six thirtyish.  That will give you a chance to decide if you're going to get freaked out being seen with a bald woman.  We can spend a little time talking and seeing how things go.”

“You want this to work don't you?”

“Yes I do.  We'll talk some more after you get here.”

“I want it to work too.  I never imagined having a bald girl friend.  I just need to adjust to the idea.”

“I think you can.  I'll see you a six thirty.”

I'll be there.  Bye.”

“Bye.”

I put down my cell phone very gently and with a sigh of relief.  Our relationship had deepened over the past four years while we were in college and Matthew went on to graduate school. I was sure we had something special between us and I believed that it would survive my need to get my head shaved.  Now I was beginning to feel more confident that Matthew would be willing to accept me as a bald woman.

I spent much of the remainder of the afternoon slowly sorting out books, notebooks and other things from High School, knowing that it was time to discard them.  I did carefully preserve my report cards and grades, a few trophies from my two year career as a cross-country runner and my three year-books.  Most of the clothes that had not been worn since High School I relegated to the pile of clothes destined for Goodwill.  I felt a finality to it.  I realized that the likelihood of returning to live at home for anything other than a short vacation was small.  When I left for Grad School in a few months I knew that it would signal the beginning of my life as an independent woman.

I looked at herself in the mirror over the dresser that had been mine for most of my life.  I imagined O saw the five year old girl who had jumped in delight when she entered the room in their new house that was now hers.  These musings were interrupted when I remembered that Mom was fixing a dinner for three.  I hurried down the hall to find her, taking a quick peek into the master bedroom on her way.  Not finding her in the kitchen I was certain she would be outside tending her roses despite the heat that had arrived unbidden in early June.

“There you are Mom.  I figured you'd be out here.  It's pretty hot.  I'll get you a glass of ice water.”

“Don't bother Alana.  I'm OK.  I'm about to quit for the day anyway.”

“Well, you need to keep yourself hydrated when it's this hot.  Anyway, I came to tell you that Matthew is coming at six thirty.  He's taking me out to dinner and a movie, so don't fix anything for me.”

“Does he know?”

“Mother!  Of course he knows.  I would never spring such a surprise on him unannounced.  Well, it is unannounced in the sense that I didn't inform him ahead of time.  I would have told you ahead of time if I thought you'd be OK with it and not give me a big argument.  I just had to do it it satisfy myself and I didn't want to face a lot of arguments.  It's a lot easier to deal with everyone when it's a fait acomplié rather than trying to deal with so much resistance.”

“OK.  I'm not going to talk about it any more.  I'll just keep my mouth shut until you let it grow out.”

“Uh, Mom …. uh OK.  That works,” I responded, resisting the impulse to say that I wasn't about to let my hair grow out any time soon.

“I guess I'd better get out of this heat,” she said as she reached down to pick up the trimmings that had dropped on the ground.

“I'll get those for you Mom,” I said as I went down on one knee to pick up more of the trimmings and deposit them in the large basket.

“Thanks dear.  My knees get a little stiff doing this.”

“I'll dump this on the brush pile.  You go on back inside and get something to drink.”

A few minutes later in the kitchen we both enjoyed a glass of lemonade.

“You make the best lemonade Mom.”

“You've told me that since you were a little girl,” Eleanor laughed.

“Well, it's true.  I'd better go get ready.”

I went back to my room and found myself in a quandary.  I wanted to be striking, but without overdoing it.  My study of bald women on the internet revealed that without hair my face, eyes, mouth and other features would draw a lot of attention.  They didn't have to be enhanced nearly as much as I usually did to draw attention away from her hair.  So I would need to be subtle.  An hour later after a number of tries I thought I had achieved the right balance.

I realized that it would be a challenge to present myself to my Dad and to Matthew within a period of an hour and maintain my composure.  I thought Dad would be surprised, but not shocked.  He had always been more laid back than Mom, but I would have to keep my cool and not get into a debate about not having any hair.  I wanted to stay calm and self-possessed before Matthew arrived.  I decided to go back to the kitchen and present herself to Mom once again.  I sensed that Eleanor was taking the first tiny step toward acceptance.

“Mom, what do you think of this outfit?”

“Goodness Alana, you startled me.  Let me see you.  That looks very nice.  I like those silky trousers.  The top goes with it nicely.  It's very flattering.  Those large hoop earrings are a nice touch too.  You look very feminine despite not having any hair.  You're not using much makeup either.  That's a surprise.”

“Thanks Mom.  I actually feel more feminine with no hair.  Somehow I think my hair disguised my femininity.  It's funny, but you need to use less makeup if you have no hair.  Otherwise it looks overdone.”

“I think I understand that.  Your eyes do seem to be bigger.  How did you do that?  It's certainly a positive effect.”

“I've looked at a lot of pictures of bald women and they always look better with subdued makeup, especially for their eyes and lips.  It's the same for women with buzz cuts, Particularly if they have blond buzz cuts.”

“Really?  It seems so counter-intuitive, but you may be right.  It's still incomprehensible to me even though you look quite good if I focus on your face and your outfit.”

“It's OK Mom.  I'm still the same daughter that you've had for twenty one years.  I'm not going radical in any other way.”

“I'd better finish this before your Dad gets home,” Mom said clearly finding the conversation a little stressful.

“OK.  I'll be in my room.”

Half an hour later I heard Dad's voice in the kitchen followed by Mom's.  I didn't want to delay, so I quickly made my way there to greet him.

“Hi Dad,” I said as I entered the room.

“So there you are Alana.  So what's this all about?  Finding I suddenly have a bald daughter is a bit of a surprise.”

“Nothing has changed with me except that I finally gave in to my desire to have a bald head like Tamara.  I've wanted to do it since I was eight years old.  So today I indulged myself.  I like it and I feel very good about myself.  It's exactly what I needed to do to make myself happy.”

“Well, if it makes you happy and it doesn't cause you any problems then I can't object.  Tamara always seemed very happy with no hair.  I got used to seeing her looking quite beautiful with her shiny bald head.  You look quite good the way you are now even without hair.”

I was suddenly hugely relieved.  I went to him quickly and gave him a hug.

“Thanks Dad.  That makes me feel much better.  I want you and Mom to understand that I really needed to do this for myself and that it's not some freakish rebellion thing.  I'm going to do all the things that we've talked about.  I'm going to work at the pottery factory and then head off to grad school just like I planned.  I haven't changed, I just got rid of something I've never wanted anyway.”

“I'm beginning to understand.  You have to be yourself.  More power to you.  Most people don't have the courage or the will to be themselves.  Being bald doesn't harm anyone.  Lots of young men shave their heads.  So why not a young woman if that's what she wants.  Just do what makes you happy.”

“You're the best Dad a bald girl could have,” I said as I hugged him again.

“Have a great evening with Matthew.  I'm sure he'll understand and see you as a beautiful bald woman.”

“Thanks Dad.  I hope so.  He's a great guy.”

Matthew wasn't due for another twenty minutes, more than long enough time for me to hatch a colony of butterflies in my stomach.  Everything was happening much faster than I had anticipated.  Still, I had made my decision and would have to accept whatever consequences came with it.  I began to regain my composure as I talked sternly to herself.  By the time the door bell rang my self-assurance had reestablished itself and I walked confidently to the door and opened it.

“Hi Matthew.  I'm so glad to see you.  Come on in.”

“Let me get a good look at the new Alana.  I like the outfit.  You look quite elegant.  How did you manage that?”

“Well, first thing is that I had my head shaved and polished,” I laughed just a little giddily.

“Rather unusual choice, but it seems to have worked out quite well.”

“Thank you.  Let's go out to the garden.  Mom's roses are lovely and it a very nice evening.  You probably want to know what in the world came over me to want to have my head shaved.”

“The thought did enter my mind.”

“We can sit here in the shade.  Mom's roses are looking better than I've ever seen them.”

“They're beautiful.  Now what about your head?”

“OK.  I'll try to explain as honestly as I know how. 

When I was only eight years old I wanted to be like Tamara and have my hair cut off.  Mom laughed at me and said that girls were supposed to have hair.  I didn't argue about it, but I didn't understand what she said, because Tamara seemed to have no problem with not having hair.  Several years late I told Tamara that she was very pretty with no hair and she said that she liked not having hair and that I would look very nice with no hair.  Several years after that I complemented her again and she confessed that she liked being bald and thought she looked much better bald than with hair.  She said that if she ever conquered her cancer she would keep her head shaved bald because she liked the way she looked as a bald girl. 

She even recruited me to shave her head for her one time.  She loved having someone massage her head with a nice moisturizer.  Then she said that I would look very good with no hair and said that I should shave my head.  I said that maybe I would someday.  She never let her hair grow after that even when she was in remission for nearly a year.

That was the last time we talked about being bald, but I had absorbed the idea and wanted to experience being bald.  I even came up with a plan to have my head shaved when I graduated from high school, but when she died I was devastated and put everything that I had collected and all the pictures that I had taken way in the back of my closet.  They stayed there undisturbed for five years.

It wasn't until I came home after graduation and started to clear out my room of all the stuff I'd accumulated over the years that I picked up that old scrapbook that I had filled with photos of Tamara and me.  When I opened it all those old memories came back in a flood.  I looked at one picture of her with her head gleaming and the biggest smile you've ever seen and that's when my old desire to have a shaved head re-emerged with irresistible intensity.  Despite my suppression of any thoughts about Tamara, I think my desire to be bald had grown over the years until it became more like an obsession.

I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away.  I simply couldn't stop thinking about it and getting tingly with anticipation.  I finally realized that I had to get it done – the urge was just too strong to resist.  So I looked up barbershops and found that fancy barbershop/spa that's downtown. 

When I arrive there this morning I did have a few last minute qualms, but they went away as I walked into the barbershop.  When I sat in the chair and a woman barber asked me how she should cut my hair I told her I wanted a deluxe head shave.  She didn't hesitate.  She seemed to know that I wouldn't change my mind.  By the time she was half way done I was already starting to feel comfortable with what I saw in the mirror.  I liked the way I looked.  She finished the second shave that made my head almost baby smooth and I knew that being bald was exactly what I wanted.

She polished my head and gave me this great shine.  I knew right away that I would keep it shaved as smooth as possible.  She suggested that I come back for a shave every week and to shave myself every day.  She even told me what shaver to buy and sold me a special shaving oil and some of the head wax that she had used.  By the time I was ready to leave I was exhilarated – elated.  I felt great and I loved the way I looked. 

I left the barbershop feeling very self-assured.  I did my shopping at the department store.  I told the clerk that helped me that I did it for myself.  I have not had a single moment of self doubt.  This is the way I'm going to be for the foreseeable future.  I've never felt better about myself than I do now.”

I stopped, took a deep breath and let it out waiting for Matthew's response.

Matthew leaned over, put his hand on the back of my head and kissed me firmly.  Surprised, I resisted for an instant then responded enthusiastically.  Finally we broke apart.

“That was a lot more than just an explanation.  It was more a declaration of freedom.”

“It was wasn't it?  So you think you can handle it?”

“I think I'll be happy to share my life with you.  No, that's not right.  I'm certain of it.  Let's tell your folks we're heading out.  I have this very smart, capable, determined and damn good looking bald woman to take out to dinner and a movie.”

“Let's practice that business of you holding my head while we kiss one more time,” I teased him.

“My pleasure!”

When we finally surfaced for air Matthew continued to fondle my head for a moment.  I was almost hypnotized.

“You intend to keep it as smooth as this?”

“I wish!  don't think I can do it quite this good.  I'd have to shave twice a day.  I'm not going to have that kind of time in graduate school,” I giggled like a six year old as Matthew ran his fingernails gently down behind my ears and down my neck.

“Let's go.  Mom and Dad are probably in the kitchen.”

We quickly made our way to find Mom and Dad.

“Good to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Godwin.”

“We're on our way out,” Alana added.

“Good to see you Matthew.  You too enjoy yourselves,” my Dad, Robert, told us.

“We will.  Bye Mom.”

Matthew took my hand as we left the kitchen to reach the foyer and exit out the front door.  I returned his squeeze.

“How did your folks react to seeing you bald?”

“Mom was aghast, but Dad is pretty laid back and accepted it rather easily.  Mom has gotten over the first shock.  I think she'll come around.”

“I suspect she will.  You're not exactly mainstream any more, but you look great with your head shaved.  The more I see it the better I like it.”

“My barber lady said that someday I'd have to become permanently bald.  If you like me bald like this, would you have any problem if I got rid of my hair permanently so I look like Tamara did most of the time, with a perfectly smooth head and no hint whatsoever of having hair?”

“You could almost pass for that now.  I like the way you look.  I wouldn't have a problem.”

“That's a relief.  I think I'm going to enjoy being my true self.”

“Of course you should.  You're a striking beautiful bald woman.  And probably smarter than me to top it off,: Matthew laughed.

“Get out of here!  Just get us to to the Red Lobster before we have other ideas,” Alana laughed.

“I'm going as fast as I can.”

“Oh, all right.  I suppose you shouldn't exceed the speed limit too much,” Alana kidded him.

Matthew parked the car in the parking lot behind the restaurant.

“Well here we are – you ready?”

“Ready for what,” Alana asked perplexed.

“Well … I guess I was thinking you might be having some qualms about ….  you know,” Matthew stammered, beginning to realize he had stuck his foot in his mouth and was having trouble extracting it.

“Good heavens, Matthew.  I was out and about this morning and I felt just fine.  Of course people looked at me.  I smiled back.  I wasn't the least bit self-conscious about being bald.  In fact, in a way I welcomed it.  It gave me the chance to say how much I liked it.”

“Dumb of me to even think of you having doubts.  You've always been the most self-assured woman I've ever known.“

“Well thank you!  Now will you escort me into this restaurant and see if we can get a table and perhaps even order a nice meal,” I teased him.

The greeter's eyes got big as we approached.  We were told that there would be a twenty minute wait for a table.  We sat down along with several others who were already waiting and were having a hard time not staring at me.  Matthew and I talked quietly about our upcoming plans and what we had accomplished since we had last talked. 

The woman sitting next to us could hear us talking about our jobs and graduate school plans.  Finally her curiosity got the best of her.

“Pardon me Miss.  I couldn't help but overhear you talking.  You're obviously don't have cancer.  I probably shouldn't be sticking my nose into this, but my curiosity has gotten the better of me,” she trailed off not quite ready to blurt out her question.

“I understand what you asking and I'm not at all offended.  You're right that I don't have cancer.  I don't have alopecia either.  I simply like being bald.  I've never liked having hair so I decided to get it shaved off.  And to answer your other question, I don't expect to let it grow any time in the foreseeable future either.  I simply like being bald too much,” I answered with my best smile.

“And by the way, since I'm sure you want to know what I think of it, here's the answer.  She's a super good looking woman with her bald head.  She's also smart and has a lot of confidence.  I'm a very lucky guy to have someone like her to be with,” Matthew put in his plug for me.

By now, with the spell broken, several other women ventured to ask questions or voice an opinion.  I responded easily and without hesitation, my self-confidence on full display.  Matthew was reduced to voicing his agreement, and his own positive reaction to seeing her as a bald woman.  Finally the discussion was ended when the greeter made an announcement.

“Collins, party of two.  Collins.”

“That's us,” Matthew told the small group of people who had drifted toward them to listen to the conversation and get a closer look at the attractive bald woman.

“Thanks everyone.  I hope I answered your questions,” I said as I stood up to go with Matthew.

Later, after we had ordered glasses of white wine and our meals, Matthew commented.

“That was amazing, Alana.  You handled that beautifully.  You had them in the palm of your hand.  I think your absolute honesty and conviction completely disarmed them.”

“I just answered them the way I felt.  I guess it seems very strange, even to you, that a woman would be so comfortable being bald, but to me it's the most natural thing in the world, so it was easy to say just how I felt.”

After watching a forgettable movie we drove quietly back toward my house.

“you're pretty quiet Matthew.  What's going on in your head?”

“I'm just thinking about us for the rest of the week.  I want to make the most of it.  We can have lunch tomorrow and spend some time at the park just doing some hiking or going to the arboretum.  I don't know about dinner.  I can't spend much,” Matthew said a little plaintively.

“I'd like that Matthew.  I'll take care of dinner this time.  There's more isn't there?”

“Well, I'd like to take you up to the lake for a few days.  My folks aren't going to be using their Summer cabin until July,” Matthew said somewhat hesitantly.

“Oh, Matthew I'd love to do that!  I've been hoping you'd ask.  I want to be with you as much as possible when we have the chance,” I exclaimed.  I har refrained from suggesting anything like that even though I wanted it badly.  I was still a little uncertain of how, in the long term, Matthew was going to respond to me being completely bald.

“You do?” he responded the surprise evident in his tone of voice.

“Of course!  We're exactly right for each other.  Didn't you know that?”

“Well, yeah, I thought that was true, but I wasn't sure you thought the same way.”

“You have a hard time reading body language don't you.  I love you Matthew.  Is that plain enough?”

“I love you too.  I guess I'm pretty bad at letting you know.”

“Oh, I know.  Your body language is quite plain to see,” I laughed. 

In the years I had known Matthew I had learned quite a bit about his personality.  He was almost obsessively loyal, yet he was almost completely blind when it came to reading peoples' body language.  He also had a very difficult time expressing his emotions.  If he expressed his feelings once he didn't think it needed to said again – ever.  Still I knew he was right for me.  He was kind, considerate, compassionate, funny and absolutely lovable as well as being a wonderful lover.  He also loved me and he was above all loyal.  The fact that he was smart, hardworking and destined to be successful was a major bonus.

Matthew parked the car that he had borrowed from his Mom in front of my house.

“I thought we could go up there on Thursday.  I'll be flying back to State Monday morning, so we'll have three and a half days.”

“Can we go on Wednesday?  I would like to get my head shaved Wednesday morning.  You could come and watch.  Better yet I could come pick you up at nine on Wednesday and we'll take my car.  I'll drive us to the barbershop,” I laughed thinking about him watching.

“I don't see why not.  It's only an hour drive to the lake, so we'll have half of Wednesday to get comfortable.  We'll need to buy some groceries or something.  I've actually gotten a little better at cooking,” Matthew responded laughing.

“Of course.  I like to cook too, and I'm pretty good at it.  I have another idea.  Why don't I invite you to have dinner with us on Monday and you invite me to come to your place for dinner on Tuesday.  That way we don't have to spend any more money on restaurants.  I'm going to be pretty tight on money too when I head off to school in the fall.  We might as well get used to the idea.”

“That makes a lot of sense to me.  Um, I'd like to watch you get your head shaved.  I might have a little trouble walking afterward.”

“You think my bald head is sexy!”

“Well, actually I do.”

“You're funny, but nice.  I'm really happy that you like it.  I was a little worried.  You can hold it any time you want.  Now would be an especially good time,” I said as I reached out to embrace him.

Some time later we settled back in the car after we both had discovered a good deal about just how fondling an attractive woman's bald head, and being the bald recipient of such fondling ignited our passions.

“Can you hold off until Wednesday,  otherwise we're going to have to shock my Mom and go up to my room,” Alana said.

“I don't want to get your Mom upset.  I can wait.  Isn't she going to be a little upset when you go up to the lake with me?”

“She's pretty old fashioned, but she knows that we've been having sex for the last several years.  She just doesn't want to be reminded about it too openly.  I'd prefer to respect her wishes.”

“Sure.  I get that.  I'll try to keep from exploding,” Matthew laughed.

Sunday morning was the day of reckoning in my own mind.  I would have to shave and polish my head for the first time.  I actually looked forward to the challenge, but still I worried about not getting a result that was as good as I wanted.  I showered and followed the terse instructions about cleaning the polishing wax off my head that Wanda had provided.  When I dried off my head it no longer had the distinct glow that Wanda had given it.  The color was also gone.  I could easily feel the slight growth that left my head with a distinctly scratchy feeling.

I had warmed the shaving oil in a basin full of hot water.  I applied the shaving oil to my head and massaged  it in gently to make sure every square inch was covered.  I clicked on my new shaver and lifted it up to my forehead.  After a moment of hesitation I gingerly applied it to the middle of my forehead and moved it gently back over my head.  I could hear the sound change as the shaver began doing its job.  I continued with some confidence until I had been over the whole of the top of my head.  Turning off the shaver I was brought up short as I felt my head where I thought it had been shaved.  The raspy feel that was present was disconcerting.  The shaver was new and should give a good shave, so I applied more shaving oil and tried again – this time pressing a little more firmly.  I was immediately rewarded with a better result.  After yet more experimentation, I found the right combination of deliberateness and pressure that produced the result that I had anticipated – not quite as good as Wanda's nearly perfect shave, but close enough.

OK.  That's not too bad.  Now I just need to polish it I said to myself if only in my own head.

Wanda had explained that the wax worked better if it was warmed up some so that it was quite soft and easy to apply.  She had suggested that I put some in a small bowl that could sit in some hot water for a few minutes.  I had dug into a box of rags that Mom kept in the storage closet and found an old soft tee-shirt.  A folded up square of it would serve to apply the polish.  A larger piece would have to do for the actual polishing until I found something better.  So I was prepared.

I had watched Wanda intently as she polished my head and had a clear memory of how it had been done.  I was able to reproduce it quite closely as I spread the waxy polish over my head.  Waiting the requisite time, I began to polish it.  Now I was on my own, because Wanda had used a small buffing machine that did an excellent job.  My soft rag would have to serve.  I rubbed a spot that I could examine easily, cautiously at first, then more vigorously as she saw the shine develop.

When I thought that I was done I used my hand mirror to examine the back of my head and was gratified to see that indeed it had taken on quite a noticeable glow.  I was satisfied with the result. 

I would like to obtain a little buffing wheel like the one Wanda used, she thought to herself.  I hadn't a clue where to get something like that.  I'd have to ask Wanda about it on Wednesday when I go in for my shave.

Not bad, not bad at all, I though to myself as I walked jauntily down the stairs and to the kitchen where I knew, from the sounds coming from it, that Mom would be.

“Good morning Mom.”

“Oh good!  You're up.  I'm fixing omelets.  What would you like in yours?” Eleanor asked cheerfully.

“You make the best omelets.  I'll take whatever you're fixing for Dad.”

“It's a spinach and mushroom omelet.”

“Sounds yummy!”

“OK.  It'll be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“I have a request for you Mom.  Matthew doesn't have much money to spend on dinners for us when we go out.  Would it be OK to invite him to dinner Monday night?”

“Of course.  He's OK with …. with how you look?”

“He's very OK with me being bald.  He likes it.  We had a good time yesterday and we'll be going out everyday this week.  He's very special for me Mom.”

“You still have to get through graduate school.  You don't want to get too serious.”

“Don't worry Mom.  I'm not a teenager any more.  Matthew and I are both pretty mature and responsible.  We're not going to do anything foolish.  This omelet is delicious,” Alana said trying to change the subject. 

Fortunately her Dad, arrived at that moment.

“Good morning everyone.  What's that wonderful aroma that I smell?”

“Mom's making omelets.  They're great!”

“Well Eleanor, I hope you have one for me,” Robert said as he slipped up behind her and gave her a resounding kiss.

“Just a couple of minutes more if you don't get me so distracted that I scorch it!”

“Can't let that happen.  I'll just have a seat and stay out of the way.  So Alana, you seem to be groomed and dressed for going out.  Something to do with Matthew I expect.”

“That's right.  I was a little worried, but I managed to give myself a pretty good head shave and a nice polish this morning.  I'll do better as I get more practice.”

“I thought that was the case, since I expected to see a little five O'clock shadow and it's not there.  It's certainly different, but I have to admit you're still a pretty darn good looking woman.”

“Don't encourage her Robert,” Mom interjected.

“Just telling the truth Eleanor, nothing more.”

“Matthew is going to be here in an hour and I have a few things to do.  I'll see you before I leave.  Oh, and Matthew will be having dinner with us tomorrow evening.”

An hour later Matthew greeted me exuberantly as I welcomed him.  After a few polite words with my Mom and Dad we left for our daylong outing.  A small delicatessen provided a good evening meal at modest cost and an outdoor table where we could enjoy early evening on a fine June day.  A forgettable movie completed our day.  It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back our growing passion, we finally disengaged and, barely, managed to control ourselves and not end up having sex on the grass in the front yard.

Monday morning when I shaved my head for the second time it seemed much easier than the first time.  I knew that I could press firmly without being concerned about irritating my scalp.  I was gratified at the result and surprised at how quickly I had accomplished it.  Cleaning off the oil I proceeded to spread the polishing wax over my head.  A minute later I set about polishing it.  I checked herself in the mirror, did a little more polishing and was happy with the result. 

The afternoon passed quickly for Matthew and me as we enjoyed each others' company.  By five pm we were back at my house and sitting outside admiring Mom's roses.

That evening after dinner, I announced that I would be going with Matthew to his family's Summer cabin on the lake.  Mom asked if Matthew's family would be going too.  When I said it would just be Matthew and me, Mom remained silent.  The silence was broken when Dad said something about the lake being a good place to relax and enjoy nature.  I smiled at this accidental double entendre.

“It is quite beautiful.  I'm sure we'll enjoy our time there.”

“My Dad has done quite a few upgrades on it in the past two years.  We'll be very comfortable there.  I'll be looking out for Alana, although I'm sure she's more than capable of looking out for herself,” Matthew added.

I was rapidly gaining confidence in being able to shave my head and give it an attractive glow.  It was very evident on Tuesday morning.  My shave proceeded rapidly and efficiently.  I ran my hand and fingers over my head, found a few places that merited a second pass with the shaver, cleaned off the oil and quickly polished my head.  It had been done in record time.  I smiled at my reflection, ran my hand over my head and smiled even more broadly.  I experienced a moment of heady delight at how I looked that made me momentarily giddy – almost like a teenaged girl going to her first prom.

When I went downstairs to the kitchen I greeted Eleanor exuberantly.

“Good morning Mom.  It's a beautiful day isn't it.  You're looking great this morning.”

“Goodness, Alana.  You're very enthusiastic.  Has something happened?”

“Nothing different.  I'm just feeling very good about myself.  I'm really happy for some reason.”

“Well, you're looking very good yourself.  That's a nice outfit.  You're quite attractive.”

“Thanks Mom.  I appreciate that.”

I smiled inwardly.  Mom's attitude was changing, and more quickly than I had thought it would.  It was a welcome outcome and made me look forward to when Eleanor would fully accept me as a bald woman.  When Matthew arrived I greeted him with a little more eagerness than usual. 

We spent the day in a local museum and walking along the paths in a large state park a short drive away.  I had almost stopped noticing when people looked at me.  At one location where the foot path crossed a good sized stream we stopped in the middle to enjoy the view and ended up in a pleasant conversation about some of the more interesting parts of the walk, such as the two hundred year old hemlock pine trees that had been carefully preserved.

When the other couple departed his last remark was “nice looking head,” which made me laugh.  I had taken off my cap because we were in rather deep shade.  I responded with “Thanks, I like it too.”

Matthew's parents Corinne and Walter had been well briefed about my baldness and were quite nonchalant about it when we arrived.

“I have to admit that baldness seems to suit you very well Alana,” Walter complimented her.

“I agree.  It's a little exotic I suppose, but somehow not having hair emphasizes your features and even enhances your femininity.  You look quite striking,” Corinne added her assessment.

“My goodness!  You'll have me blushing like a schoolgirl.  I certainly do like it.  It seems like I've had it like this for ages and it's only been four days.”

“And you intend to remain bald?” Corinne asked.

“I have no thoughts of ever letting it grow again, but you know people change all the time, and I'm no different.  Something could change my mind tomorrow, although I have no idea what that something might be.  For now I expect to be a bald woman indefinitely.”

“Well more power to you.  Are we ready for dinner Corinne?”

“Give me two minutes.”

___________________________

Wednesday morning I was up even earlier than usual.  I showered and carefully cleaned the polish that covered her head.  My head felt slightly bristly after twenty four hours, but I still looked very good in my own opinion.  After dressing in a pair of shorts and a peasant top, which I expected Matthew to find quite sexy, I took my small wheeled luggage and an overnight bag downstairs and sat them by the front door.

 Mom was puttering about putting everything in meticulous order as was her nature when I walked into the kitchen..

“Good morning Mom.  Did you fix something for Dad?”

“Oh, Alana.  You're up.  I did fix some pancakes for him.  There's a little batter left.  I'll fix some for you.”

“Thanks Mom.  That would be great.”

“You look a little different this morning,” Eleanor observed.

“That's right.  I didn't shave or polish my head this morning.  I'm taking Matthew with me to the barbershop where I'll get a deluxe shave and polish.  Matthew thinks I look ….  very good and wanted to see me get my head shaved,” Alana explained having caught herself before she said 'sexy.'

“Seems a little strange to me,” Mom replied.

“These are good pancakes.  Thanks Mom.  I need to get ready,” I said, changing the subject.

Half an hour later I was ready and eager to go.

“Bye Mom.  I'll see you Sunday afternoon.”

“OK.  Just be careful please.”

“Oh Mom.  I'm a grown woman.  I'm not going to jeopardize my future or my career.”

“All right.  I shouldn't be saying such things.  I know you're responsible. “

“It's OK Mom.  You're just being a normal Mother and caring for your daughter.  I actually appreciate it, although sometimes it feels like you don't think I'm a responsible adult.”

“I know.  It's just instinct I suppose.  It feels like you were just a little girl only yesterday and I have a hard time adjusting to the fact that you're a grown woman and can make your own decisions.  I hope you have a wonderful time with Matthew at the lake.  He's a very nice young man.  You could hardly expect to find someone better.”

“That's for sure.  I do love him Mom.  And he loves me.  I think we'll be together for a very long time.  See you on Sunday.  Bye.”

“Bye Alana.  Take care.”

Despite, or perhaps because, Mom had referred to my baldness only obliquely, I knew that she was starting to accept me as an adult and even accept me as what I am – a bald woman.  I smiled to myself as I deposited my luggage in the back seat of my car and headed off to pick up Matthew.

I was just opening my door when Matthew came out to greet me.

“Come on in for a minute or too.  Mom has something to tell you.”

“About what?” I asked curious.

“Nothing serious.  Just come on in,” Matthew encouraged me.

“Good morning Alana.  You're looking very good..  Matthew told me that you two are very serious about each other.  I think that's wonderful.  Matthew could not have found a more outstanding person than you Alana.  I'll be delighted to be able to call you my daughter-in-law whenever you two decide it's time.  I will be even more delighted if you're my bald daughter-in-law.  Meanwhile I wish I had a better expression than girlfriend.  In any case I wish you the most joyful time at the lake,” Corinne said as she stepped forward to give Alana a warm embrace, which the surprised Alana returned.

“Most people understand the term companion or even partner.  I like those better than girlfriend or boyfriend,” Alana suggested.

“Oh.  I think I've seen them used a few times.  I'll try to remember.  I like either one a lot better than girlfriend,” Corinne responded.

A few more words and we were ready to go.  I picked up Matthew's very small gadget bag which held his razor and the charger for his I-pad and Matthew deposited his small item of luggage in the back seat.  Then we were off to the barber shop.

“Your Mom is very understanding.  I like her a lot.”

“She likes you too.  She always wanted a girl.  You're going to be the girl she never had even though you're an adult.”

“She doesn't seem to have any problem with me being bald,” I said making it a question.

“Absolutely not.  She things you look super.  She's definitely a fan.  I think it wouldn't take much for her to try it herself, especially if she could do it with you around.”

“She'd get her head shaved!  That's pretty adventurous.”

“She's like that.  All she would need is a little encouragement and someone like you to be with her to boost her confidence.”

“That would be fun, but I don't think I'm up to trying to get other women to try being bald just yet.  Maybe after I've had a year or two of experience I might try,” I laughed

“That's what I thought too.  Probably it won't happen, but she is intrigued.”

“I'm glad she approves of my bald head.  It makes me feel very good.”

“She definitely approves.  It was a surprise to her, but she appreciated how good you looked.”

“OK.  Here's the parking garage.  The barbershop is only a short walk away on the other side.”

A brisk walk and we were entering the shop.  There were plenty of people on the sidewalk and I observed a few looking at me, but I was too focused on Matthew to give them any notice.

“That's Wanda down at the end.  Let's go sit down there.”

“Hello Wanda.  I'm back a little early.”

“Well, hello yourself Alana.  I'll be with you shortly,” Wanda responded cheerfully.

“I get the idea that you enjoy getting your head shaved,” Matthew suggested.

“Actually I do.  After that first shave I liked how I looked and was eager for the second shave which made my head super smooth.  By then I was well aware of the sensuous feeling of having my head shaved.  So I definitely look forward to it now,” I laughed quietly.

“I can imagine why.  You look great with your head shaved.  Maybe I'll be able to give you a nice head massage that will be almost as good as having it shaved.”

“I'd welcome that.  I'll enjoy having it attended to by you.  We should make that a regular part of our routine,” I actually giggled softly again after making that rather blunt statement.

“Next!  That's you Alana,” Wanda said.

“OK!” I responded eagerly as I quickly took my place in Wanda's chair which was, in typical twenties barbershop protocol, kept facing away from the mirror.

“It looks like you don't have any polish on your head,” Wanda queried me.

“That's right.  I cleaned it off this morning.”

“Good.  I'll get right to your shave then.”

Wanda quickly retrieved a handful of shaving cream from the dispenser attached to the wall behind her.  It was the only compromise to the nineteen twenties ambiance of the barbershop/spa.  On the marble counter beneath it there sat a shaving mug and brush that looked as though it had been used recently.

My head was soon covered with a layer of white foam which Wanda massaged vigorously, then more gently, quickly bringing me to a state of beatific relaxation.  Wanda carefully sharpened her razor while she allowed the shaving foam to soften the bristles on my head.

“This is so relaxing Matthew.  I never imagined that a head massage could have such an amazing effect.”

“We'll work out a way for you to experience it more often.  Like I said I'd like to do it for you,” Matthew spoke up.

Wanda was now well into the first shave.  The left side was done along with part of the top.  She had started on the back working her way from left to right.  I may have been enjoying the sensations even more than the first time if that was possible.

“I didn't expect to see you until Saturday.  What prompted you to come in for a shave in the middle of the week?” Wanda asked.

“Oh, that.  Well, Matthew and I are spending the rest of the week at his family's cabin on the lake, so I decided to get a deluxe shave to start us off on the right foot,” I responded cheerfully.

“You'll be out in the sun quite a bit I expect.  Don't forget to take a hat and some sunscreen.  You definitely don't want to get a sunburn on your head,” Wanda advised us.

“Oh my God!  I forgot all about that.  I didn't even pack a hat.  Matthew, they sell hats at the store at the lake.  Remind me to get one when we get there.  And some sunscreen too.”

“Good idea.  I've about finished your first shave,” Wanda announced.

“Getting a sunburn on you head sounds like a pretty awful thing to have happen.  I'll be sure that we get that taken care of,” Matthew reassured her.

“Wanda can I ask you how you get your hair to look like that.  It's a fabulous twenties look.  I've seen a picture of some actress from the twenties who had her hair exactly like that.  What is is called?”

“I don't know if it has a specific name unless it's named after the same movie actress that you probably saw.  I don't even know her name.  It's a finger waved shingle is all I can tell you.  It's just combed straight back and the waves put in with clips.  I use to wear a Louise Brooks style bob, but I wanted something a little different.  Mel, he's the barber down at the front, suggested it.  He used to work in a salon, but jumped at the chance to work here.  He does it for me.  He's an excellent barber and he does a great job of making it look exactly right all the time.  I get a lot of attention when I go shopping,” Wanda said with a broad smile.

“It's quite striking and absolutely perfect for your job here,” Alana said.

“Well I like it and it is quite appropriate.  Here comes your hot towel!” Wanda warned me as she held the steaming towel by one corner.  It was quickly wrapped around my head and the ends tucked under to secure it.

“Isn't that quite hot Alana?” Matthew asked.

“It starts out being hot, but it quickly changes to just feeling very warm.  I might try it myself sometime,” I answered.

Wanda proceeded to remove the hot towel and spread warm shaving oil over my head.  She massaged it for a few minutes to make sure that my head was thoroughly covered.  She Picked up the odd looking razor and begun to shave my head from front to back starting on the right side.

“That's an unusual looking razor.  I've never seen anything like it,” Matthew observed.

“You won't see it in stores.  It's only available on the internet.  It's works amazingly well for shaving heads.  I wouldn't use anything else.,” Wanda explained.

I luxuriated in the feeling of having my head shave.  All too soon it was nearly done.  Wanda's special razor made it easy to shave up the back and sides and in any direction on the crown of my head.

“Almost done Alana.  It's very smooth.  I replaced the blades in it today.”

“I didn't think it could be any smoother than you did it last time,” I said surprised. 

“It's actually a little better.  I'm going to use a moisturizer on your head this time.  You should probably do that too when you shave.  You don't want your scalp to get too dried out from being regularly shaved and polished,” Wanda advised.

“I'll remember that.  It did seem a little dry this morning.”

“This moisturizer will feel cold,” Wanda warned.

“Yikes!  That is cold!  I like getting another massage though,” I said.

“You should wipe off the excess moisturizer before you polish your head,” Wanda advised me

The warm wax was spread over my head and allowed to set for two minutes.  She used a small mitt on her hand to do a preliminary polishing.  After a few traversals of my head she took off the mitt and took out her polisher.  It fit neatly in her palm and had a small, about two inch diameter, polishing head.  She ran it over my head for several minutes then turned me to face the mirror

“There you go Alana.  A very nice smooth polished head.  You look extremely good,” Wanda said as she turned the barber chair so that Alana faced the mirror.  She was clearly highly pleased with the results that she had achieved.

I looked at myself and smiled in complete satisfaction at the good looking woman, as I imagined myself, with the smooth and shiny bald head.  Wanda had achieved a very noticeable glow.  I reached up to savor the soft smoothness of it.  After four days the color had improved markedly and looked much more natural.  A warm glow of satisfaction went through me.

“It looks beautiful.  I really like the way I look with a smooth shiny head.  I think I'll soon have a nice tan too,” I replied as I continued to examine herself in the mirror feeling the need to touch it once more.

“Wow.  I have to agree.  you're a knock-out with your smooth polished head,” Matthew exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Every time I see it in a mirror I like it even more.  I think you were right Wanda when you said I'd have to be permanently bald sooner or later,” I laughed.

“I did say that didn't I.  Well it's true.  You're a beautiful bald woman.  I think it's your destiny.”

“Maybe it is, but today my destiny is to go with this smart and good looking guy to have a little vacation at the lake,” Alana said as she stepped out of the barber chair.

“It's a fantastic look – elegant and a little ethereal,” Matthew offered.

“Oh, I wanted to ask you where I could get a little polisher like that,” I queried Wanda.

“Now that's a very good question.  One of my bald customers brought it to me.  He said he found it at a yard sale and bought it because he was curious about it.  He said that it had been made by someone many years ago who had adapted some other tool to use it as a small polisher.  I doubt there's another one anywhere.  It's a real one of a kind vintage item,” Wanda responded.

“That's too bad.  I'd really like something that would make it easier for me to give myself a good shine.”

“You could use a chamois cloth.  They're very soft and they do a very good job.  You can pick one up at any auto store. Wanda suggested.

“That should work, Alana.  I'll get you one,” Matthew volunteered.

Less than two hours later we were unloading my car, putting our things in the main floor bedroom and the groceries we had purchased in the fridge.

“Let's walk over to the store and get a hat for me and some sunscreen.  I'll fix us something for lunch when we come back,” I suggested.

“Seeing you get shaved and polished got me pretty excited.  I've been having a difficult time controlling my self the whole time while we were driving here.  You're one damn sexy woman!”

I looked at him and thought, 'well why not.  I'm certainly in the mood for it.'  I tilted my head and ran my hand over it before striking a very erotic pose.  Without a word I started to unbutton the blouse I was wearing as I walked sensuously toward the bedroom.  As I reached the doorway I stopped, turned slowly back toward him and gave an upward nod of my head that invited him to follow me.  Matthew was quick to respond.

Closing the door behind him, Matthew quickly came to me and began helping me undress.  He bent over to take my right nipple into his mouth where his tongue told him that it had responded instantly and was now erect and firm.  I reached down to unbuckle his belt.  After a moment he released my nipple and we made short work of getting each other undressed.  Things progressed rapidly after that.

I directed his head down to my crotch where, with no hesitancy, he engaged my clitoris with his tongue. I nearly nearly had an orgasm right then, I was so eager.

I wiggled and pushed up against his head with my hips,  Almost instantly I began to pant and groaned as I experienced an orgasm.

“OK!” burst from my mouth as I urged Matthew to engage me fully.

Matthew was eager to oblige, his own urges nearly overwhelming him.

I whooped as Matthew penetrated me and brought me to a powerful climax.  That was followed by a second climax essentially simultaneously with his own intense climax.  It had all occurred in record time.

“Don't move Matthew.  I want you stay in me as long as you can,” Alana told him.

“How was it for you?”

“Couldn't you tell?  It was about the biggest climax I've ever had!  I really missed doing this with you.”

“Tell me about it!  I'm almost ready to do it again.”

“Next time I want you to give my nice smooth bald head some special attention.  I want to experience that.  I'm pretty sure that it's going to turn me on like gang busters,” I laughed.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“I think we have to be a tiny bit practical Matthew.  Let's have a little lunch then walk over to the store and see what we want to do when we get back.  I'm quite amenable to having another romp in the hay then.”

“Maybe a little break would do me good, even if you're the sexiest bald woman in the world.”

“We're really good for each other Matthew.  We're going to have plenty of sex over the next four days.  I may just wear you out.  I've really missed being together with you.  Come on.  Let's get dressed.  We'll shower later.  This is going to be the sexiest little vacation we've ever had,” I laughed. 

I was actually serious about wearing him out.  I knew I had a rather large need and capacity for sex and Matthew had always triggered it the way he treated me.  He would actually take the time to get me highly aroused even when he was already about ready to explode.  He even seemed to enjoy it too, so I guess we were both winners.

“I can deal with that!” Matthew responded with a grin as he rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed.

The next three days were idyllic for us.  Matthew discovered the sensual pleasure of massaging my smoothly bald head.  And, of course, I found myself being aroused by his attention as he applied the moisturizer to my freshly shaved head each morning and massaging it.  He did an especially good job on Sunday morning.  By then we had finally largely satisfied our urges, although we had found that there was plenty of gas left in our tanks even after multiple encounters every day for four days.  Actually we even found a little time to do ordinary things like fixing simple meals and going for walks.

“That feels so good Matthew!  You're really getting the hang of it,” I praised him.

“Well, it feels good to do it and it does turn me on,” Matthew said laughing.

“I can tell,” I kidded him as I gently squeezed his bulging crotch.

 Unsurprisingly, we succumbed to another round of love making before we had breakfast.

Later in the day Matthew became a little pensive.

“I going to miss you when I head back to school,” Matthew said as we took one last stroll along the lake, past the small artificial beach where we had enjoyed several morning swims and some late afternoon lounging.

“I'll miss you just as much, but we'll survive.”

“You said something to Wanda about becoming permanently bald.”

“That's right I did.  What about it?”

“Well, I think you should and I want to be there with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just that we're right for each other.  You're a terrific woman.  You were great when we were in High School, and you've gotten better ever since.  Your bald head makes you a striking individual.  I want you in my life.  Maybe we'll change in the next three or four years, but I don't think so.  We can be a great team.”

“You want us to make a commitment to each other?”

“Yes.  I want us to get married when we're ready, but right now I know I love you and want you to be a big part of my life. 

“I think you're a great guy and I do love you.  I want us to be together, but it's going to be a challenge. We're not going to be able to see each other very much in the next three or four years, so it's going to be something of a long distance relationship, but I won't to make it work too.”

“Once I finish my thesis I'll start working for Richardson Engineering.  I already have the job offer and they said it would remain open as long as I was still at Tech and I got my degree.  They're only about fifty miles from State, so we could see each other just about every week easily,” Matthew blurted out trying to make his case.

“Don't sound so worried Matthew.  Of course we can do that.  I would definitely welcome it.  I'm sure we can work out a way to be with each other almost every weekend.  After all who else is going to give me a nice head massage?” Alana reassured him.

We enjoyed a simple early evening meal of hamburgers, which Matthew grilled, topped with the last small tomato and a bit of pickle relish.  A small can of baked beans and the last of the two bottles of inexpensive wine, the only indulgence we had permitted ourselves, made it a feast.

Later that evening we said our goodbyes at Matthew's house .  There was no point in prolonging the painful goodbyes.  We had made all the plans we could.  We would stay in touch.  I drove home, feeling a subtle sense of emptiness, and shedding a few tears knowing that I might not see him again until the winter break.

There was always Skype and one thing I knew for sure, I would keep my head shaved and when the time came I would become permanently bald.  I knew that one of the things I wanted to do was to be a truly bald bride, not just a shaved bald bride.  We had both agreed to that.  I reflectively felt my head.  It still felt smooth and I still felt inordinately satisfied knowing that I was a bald woman with a wonderful lover who genuinely appreciated it.

Alana had gotten her head shaved three years earlier just after her graduation from College, to the consternation of her Mother, Eleanor. It had been done partly to honor her favorite cousin Tamara who had died of cancer when they were both just sixteen years old and were about to start their senior year of high school. Tamara had been the most optimistic person, with the greatest joy in life, that Alana had even met. She insisted that she liked being bald and that she would remain bald even if she conquered her cancer. Alana had been strongly influenced by Tamara's exuberance. Tamara never wore a wig and Alana came to see her as a beautiful bald girl. Eventually she realized that she wanted to be bald like Tamara and had even come up with a scheme to have her head shaved for charity after they graduated from high school. Tamara's death had been devastating to Alana and she tried to put everything that reminded her of Tamara out of her mind.
She returned home for the Summer after she graduated from college having been offered a Summer job. Her intention was to clean out her room knowing that her return to graduate school would be the beginning of her life as an independent woman. She had come across the old scrapbook of Tamara and herself and paged through it casually. Upon seeing some of the pictures of Tamara and herself the old memories flooded back and her long dormant desire to have her head shaved resurfaced with unexpected intensity. She had found her shaved head to be erotic and immediately discovered that she felt more attractive, feminine and self-assured than she had felt with her shoulder length hair. She knew that she would keep her head shaved indefinitely and following her barber Wanda's assertion that she would become permanently bald, she began to accept the inevitability of that outcome.
Matthew, with whom she had shared a close relationship beginning in high school, had been surprised, but quickly realized that he like her as a bald woman. They had made an informal commitment to each other and it had remained strong throughout Alana's three years as an engineering graduate student in pursuit of a PhD. She is now on the verge of having her thesis approved. She and Matthew spent their weekends together at the tiny apartment for which he provided more than half the rent.

---

Alana and Matthew Three Years Later
I looked at myself in the mirror again. It had been two weeks since my last laser treatment – the fourth in the last year, and probably the last. I looked good, but I could see the smattering of short hairs that now marred the smoothness of my head. At the clinic where I had been having my laser hair reduction treatments, they had explained that I had achieved about the maximum reduction that made practical sense. Two more treatments might result in a slight improvement – 90% reduction rather than 85% reduction, but it would hardly be worth the cost. They had suggested that the old approach, waxing, would achieve a result that would be almost indistinguishable from perfectly smooth baldness, because the hairs that grew back would be progressively lighter and finer so that after a number of treatments I would be essentially perfectly bald for six weeks or longer and would eventually achieve the perfectly smooth head that I had sought.
I was no stranger to waxing of course. I had experienced my first waxing when I was only thirteen. My Mother had instigated it at a time when I had been given a short haircut at my own request although I have to admit that Tamara had been a major influence. She had encouraged me to get a short cut and even suggested what cut would look good on me. Mom, who preferred me with short hair, was enthusiastic. She said that she was going to get hers cut short too.
Flashback: Alana Gets a Wedge Cut and a Bikini Wax
“Mom, I've decided that I want to get my hair cut. Can you take me?” I surprised my Mom with my out of the blue request.
“That's a surprise. What changed your mind? You were determined to let it grow just last week. Of course I'll take you. I think you look much better with your hair short. Have you decided how you want it cut?”
“A couple of girls in my class got their hair cut short. Tamara has been telling me I'd look a lot better with it short, so I finally decided to get it cut. Tamara thinks it should be a short angled wedge cut with bangs. She found a picture of one on a girl my age. She cut it out of a magazine for me.”
“A wedge? Is that where it's short and tapered up in the back? That's a very nice style. I've seen it on a quite a few women and girls.”
“That's what Tamara called it. That's what I want.”
“Well, I want to get my hair cut shorter so we can go together. It will have to be after school, but maybe Linda can fit us in sometime this week. I'll call her right now and see what she can do.”
An hour later our appointments had been made.
“That turned out well Alana. She can fit us in at three thirty on Wednesday. I'll have to pick you up at school so we can go directly there. I'll need to write a note to you teacher too. Remind me to do that on Tuesday.”
“OK. I'm not going to tell Tamara when I see her Monday. I want to surprise her.”
“That should be fun.”
On Wednesday, Tamara had already boarded her bus and left the school grounds when my Mom arrived and got in line with all the other cars coming to pick up kids. I rushed down the sidewalk to where she was stopped waiting for the line to move. Fifteen minutes later we arrived at Linda's little two chair shop with five minutes to spare.
“Well, we made it Linda.”
“Good. I'm just finishing Carla,” Linda responded as she continued to blow dry Carla's shoulder length blond bob.
The other stylist, who I knew only as Maddy, was much older than Linda. Every time that I saw her she was working on a woman just as old or older than she was. They all reminded me of my own Grandmother. My Mother knew both Maddy and the older lady.
I used to come with Mom even if I wasn't getting a haircut, so I had met quite a few of the regulars, Wilhelmina among them. She always had her silver gray hair in a cap of small curls with the sides and back cut very short. It had always fascinated me. This time the curls seemed almost tiny and the back and sides were being cut quite close with a clipper.
“Hi Maddy. Looks like you're giving Wilhelmina her summer cut a little early this year,” my Mom said with a laugh.
“I am, Eleanor. Jefferson sort of egged me on to do it. He claims I look younger with it like this. I ordered Maddy to makes the curls a little smaller and take it a little closer than I usually get it. I expect Jefferson with be pleased,” Wilhelmina responded laughing.
“You certainly are getting it cut close. How short is it going to be Maddy?” my Mom asked.
“She's being very daring this time. I cut it closer than usual, but she wanted it even closer so we finally ended up just a tiny bit more than a sixteenth of an inch. It's a two millimeter blade. I think it actually looks quite good,” Maddy answered.
“Come on over here for your shampoo Alana,” Linda called out to me.
I hesitated for a moment still almost transfixed by how short the hair on this Grandmotherly figure was being cut. That brief encounter had also had an impact on my still nascent desire to have my head shaved. The fact that she got her hair almost shaved reinforced my slowly growing notion that it was OK for a girl or woman to have little or no hair.
“Your Mom said that you wanted a wedge cut. Do you have something in particular in mind?” Linda asked me while she finished my shampoo.
“I have a picture of a girl with a wedge. It shows the front, one side and the back. It's in my pocket. I'll get it out for you,” I answered as I sat up with a towel around my neck. I retrieved the somewhat crumpled magazine page with the three pictures and a short description of the cut that Tamara had given me and handed it to Linda.
“That's a very nice cut Alana. You will look really good with that cut. Eleanor, have you seen how she wants her hair cut?”
“She showed me the picture. I like it. What do you think? Will it suit her?”
Oh, absolutely. It's almost the perfect style for her. I'd like to make some small adjustments if that's OK.”
“Sure. Just so it's at least that short.”
“Got it.”
“Let's get started Alana.”
Linda pinned up most of my hair. She spent a lot of time in the back parting it and making a lot of adjustments before she was satisfied.
“I have to get everything just right in the back if it's going to turn out the way it should,” Linda said.
I watched as she picked up a black clipper and snapped on a thing with long teeth. It made some noise when she turned it on.
“I'm using clippers to get the back roughed in Eleanor. That's the best way and takes a lot less time. I'll leave it an inch long to begin with, but when I'm finished it will be tapered down to her nape. When it's angled up like this you want a nice high neckline so that a lot of her neck is exposed,” Linda said to my Mom as though I was not present which piqued me a little.
“Clippers feel nice on your head. It's sort of tingly,” Linda told me as she began to run the clipper up the back of my head. I couldn't see much, but I knew that a lot of my hair was being cut off. It felt like it went up quite high on my head and it seemed to go on for a long time. Finally she stopped.
“That's a start. Now I can get the basic line established all around.”
Once again she began parting off a thin section of hair, this time all around my head.
She started cutting in the middle of the back, quite high up it seemed to me as I glanced in the mirror. The pictures that I had given her also appeared to show the sides angling up high in the back so I didn't think much about it. I watched as she carefully made the first cuts producing a perfectly straight line that angled downwards, passing across my left ear and ending on my cheek a little above my jaw. She dampened it again, combed it down and made a few adjustments. A similar procedure resulted in the right side matching the left side.
“There!” Linda exclaimed. “Now that I've gotten the lines established I can do the basic haircut. Then I'll do the bangs and finish the wedge in back,” Linda explained.
I'd never had a haircut that was done in such a meticulous way, with such small sections brought down and cut to match the preceding sections. Finally it was mostly done. Linda immediately went to work sectioning off my new bangs. Once again she seemed to take forever to part off the “V” section at the front. When she was satisfied she parted the bangs section off again so that only a thin veil of hair fell over my face. She cut it very carefully with a slight curve. Another section followed and yet another. Finally my new bangs were present although they were quite flat because of the water Linda kept spraying on them. She seemed unconcerned and picked up her clipper again and replaced the plastic thing with a different and smaller one. Later she used some special scissors and a razor tool to give my bangs some texture.
“Eleanor I think a fairly high neckline would be ideal. I'll probably have to clipper it up a good bit to get the right effect. Is that OK?”
“I like a nice high neckline too, so go ahead,” my Mom agreed.
I felt the tingly clippers once again as Linda used them on the back of my head. I didn't know exactly what she was doing, but it felt like she she cutting it very short.
Finally she put down her scissors and comb and picked up a round brush and her hair dryer. A few minutes later she declared that I was finished. She showed me the back and explained that she had given me Betty Page bangs, although I had no idea who Betty Page was. I liked it immediately. Mom was very enthusiastic too. So I started on my three year long journey of having a short angled wedge bob with curved bangs.
True to her word, Mom get a short cut herself. It was a wedge, but without the bangs. She also wanted her hairline high in back although the angle of the sides was a little less than mine. It turned out shorter than mine. Her hair came down just over the top of her hears. She was quite pleased with it and told Linda that she would keep it in that style for the foreseeable future. And she did so with a few minor variations along the way.
When I saw Tamara the next day she was ecstatic about my new style and I knew right away that I would keep it.
Keeping it proved easy because Mom would make an appointment every four weeks for me to have it cut. She kept hers cut too. It was at the second cut that the most important event occurred
I had examined my new haircut very carefully when I got home that day. I was especially intrigued with the way the nape looked. It was shaped into a “V” with the point a little lower than the bottom of my ears. I liked the way it looked. I liked how it felt even more.
“Linda, I like her nice neckline, but it grew out in practically no time. Isn't there some way to do something to keep it neat?”
“Well, I could wax her neckline. That way the shape would remain although it would grow out a little between haircuts. If it's repeated enough times it become essentially permanent.”
“That's it Linda! That's what I want you to do.”
“I can't do it this week, because I don't have any of the cream that I use to desensitize the skin. It's a sensitive area and would be too much for her without the cream.”
“OK. Let's make an appointment for her to have her regular haircut and the waxing in four weeks.”
My short haircut had met with approval from many of the other girls in my classes that Fall so I was happy to keep it in the same style. Two more girls got short cuts as well although not as short as mine.
The third haircut occurred near the end of October and this time it would be different. The first thing that Linda did was to apply some cream from a tube to the back of my neck and up a little way into the wedge part. After that was done she cut the rest of my hair, returning it to the way it was four weeks earlier. At some point she ran her clipper up the back a little way then applied the cream a second time. This would turn out to be a regular routine every eight weeks for a year.
“OK Alana. I'm ready to start shaping your neckline. It's going to hurt some, but not too much so take a deep breath. Just nod when you're ready,” Linda warned me.
I took a breath and nodded, followed immediately by a yelp as Linda removed the first strip. My eyes began watering profusely as I tried to calm myself.
“That hurt,” I complained.
“I know. It gets easier every time you get it done. This one will be the worst. Tell me when you're ready.”
I nodded again and suffered the sharp pain again. It happened two more times before she was finished. I was almost in tears by then. Linda put something on my neck that felt cold. That made the lingering pain much less. A little more trimming with the clippers and comb and I was finally done.
Linda showed me my new hairline, but all that I noticed was that it was red. She assured me it would be back to normal by the next day. While I was still mostly concentrating on what I had endured, Mom was talking to Linda about what had transpired, what Mom thought about it and making plans for the future.
By the middle of March I had undergone four waxings of my neckline. I didn't realize what had happened until one of my friends at school commented that my neckline seemed to be a lot higher than it used to be. She also said that it looked really cool like that. The sides had become a little shorter too, probably at Mom's suggestion, but I liked it that way.
I mentioned it to Tamara and she concurred that it looked very good high up like that.
“It's really nice Alana. It makes your neck seem quite long and makes your haircut very unique.”
“It does look different and interesting,” I agreed.
I was coming to terms with what had happened. Several years later I learned from Linda that Mom had told her to wax it a little higher each time until she was told it was high enough.
This picture was taken just after the fifth waxing which occurred in March. You can see how high my hairline is. It went up a little higher at the next waxing – up almost to the middle of my ear at the lowest point. I had a very high clean neckline that would soon be practically permanent. I usually wore some dangle or hoop earrings. I don't know why I don't have any on for this picture. Tamara must have taken it for the scrapbook that we kept.
I actually liked the feel of having my neckline high. I would put my hand on the back of my neck and feel how smooth it was all the way up to the occipital bone. It would cause a little tingle in me.
Oh! Linda had suggested that she put in a few highlights. She said it would make the cut a little more striking. I was excited to get them and Mom agreed, a little reluctantly.
By the middle of June my hairline had been waxed quite a few time – eight I think, and almost nothing was growing down my neck. Linda said that I could skip the waxing for several months unless there was a lot of growth, which she said was very unlikely.
Mom loved my haircut and especially the raised hairline in back which emphasized my slender neck. It was waxed a number of times over the next two, almost three, years. Linda had stopped using any of the cream to deaden the skin. By then my raised hairline was essentially permanent.
It was near the end of my Junior year that I started talking to Matthew. I later learned that it was my haircut that had drawn his interest. I was in one of the same AP classes that he was taking and doing better than he did. We started talking and I found him to be a very nice guy. We went out a couple of times toward the end of the school year, and for the first half of that Summer.
I had just turned seventeen in July when Tamara's cancer took a turn for the worst. When she went back to the hospital for treatment, there wasn't anything that could be done. While Tamara was in the hospital I was too upset to go out. When she died only three weeks later I was distraught. I talked to Matthew and he was the most sympathetic and understanding person I knew. It was during that time that I began to appreciate just how loyal Matthew was. That lasted until school started again, but by then Matthew was already in college.
Before school started I began putting away everything that reminded me of Tamara. I even let my hair grow. I didn't get another haircut for about six months.
Matthew called me from his college and we started dating whenever he was in town. I dated a few other guys, but they never came close to matching Matthew. Matthew never mentioned that he preferred me with my short wedge cut with its Betty Page bangs.
I had started getting my legs waxed when I was sixteen. I hated shaving them and I thought they looked awful with the rather abundant growth of dark hair that I had inherited from some part of of my family. Somehow Tamara's perfectly smooth legs, another effect of her chemo, had resulted in my desire to emulate her. I actually felt envious of her perfectly smooth legs, arms and underarms.
It was during my second leg waxing session that my operator noticed that my pubic hair was showing outside my panties and suggested that I should get a bikini wax. It seemed quite reasonable so I asked Mom if I could have it done. She actually encouraged it and so at the next session I told my operator to go ahead. She got started right away. She used a small clipper with a guide on it to trim my bush and all the way down on both sides to about a quarter inch. She applied the skin deadening cream that I was quite familiar with, then did my legs. She did a second application of the cream, then did my underarms. At that point I was getting pretty relaxed. I had been up quite late Friday night before my nine O'clock appointment and I actually dozed off while she was doing my pubic mound. I could feel the tugging and hear the sound of her pulling off the wax and hair, but I continued to be pretty much out of it. I really didn't pay much attention even when she had me turn over and get up on my knees so she could do everything in my crack.
The results were a bit disconcerting. What she had done was give me a Brazilian wax. I ended up with a small chevron of hair above my labia and nothing else. The triangle was only two inches wide. (My engineering side made me measure it!) The sides were actually slightly inwardly curved and the height of it was only two and a half inches. The operator said that I could easily wear a thong. I had to agree with her. I kept it trimmed quite short most of the time after that.
By the time I left for college my little “V” of pubic hair had become a permanent fixture along with my waxed legs, arms and underarms. I hadn't consciously emulated Tamara, but her influence has to be acknowledged.
It was during the Christmas holidays that Matthew and I had sex for the first time. We had communicated regularly since Tamara died and he was remarkably kindhearted and understanding when I would get emotional. He helped me over the worst part. We actually had a couple of dates over the Thanksgiving holidays. By Christmas I was very sure he was the one for me. I had no hesitation at all about having sex with him. When he saw me for the first time he was quite excited by the fact that my bottom was almost completely smooth.
Enough reliving the past I told myself. He'll be here in a few minutes and you need to be ready.
Three years earlier upon my return home after my graduation from college with my engineering degree, I had shaved my head for the first time. I left for graduate school at the end of Summer, while Matthew, after a brief vacation at home (and a wonderful few days with me at his folks' cabin on the lake,) had also returned to graduate school to finish his thesis. He had accomplished that early in that first fall. His MS degree was awarded in January and he accepted a job offer at a large management consulting firm only fifty miles away from the University where I was studying although he had to drive an additional ten miles to get to my apartment on the other side of town.
Friday when he arrived we went out to dinner to celebrate his promotion. It wasn't long before he brought up the subject that had been hovering at the peripheries of both of our thoughts.
“I've been thinking Alana. I know we've mentioned it a few times, but I'd like us to get married this Summer. Our parents would be delighted if that happened. I have another thought too. I think you're a great researcher and a superior teacher. Have you thought about taking a post doc at tech? I think you'd be a cinch to get an assistant professor position after a couple of years,” he spilled out his ideas hurriedly, probably worried that I might have some objection.
“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself just a little? I haven't heard anything from my committee yet,” I tweeked him just a little. My major professor had already encouraged me to look for a post doc appointment. He had also told me that I had produced a very solid piece of research and that he thought my thesis would pass easily.
“I don't think so. You really are the professor type. I think it's what you were born to do. And your thesis is way beyond anything that I could have done. I can't even imagine that you'll have any problems with your committee,” Matthew said earnestly.
“I'm happy that you want us to get married. And your idea is not at all bad. Professor Jonas suggested something similar. A post doc at tech would give me some more experience, so that fits in with what I've been thinking. I'm sure I can take off a little time here and there to help plan a wedding. Thinking about a wedding makes me realize that I'm going to have to take the final step for my head quite soon. I had to shave it before you arrived,” I told him.
“Oh. Right. That's been hanging over you for a while hasn't it?”
“It has. I don't know why I've been hesitating. I should just get it finished,” I told him trying to convince myself. It wasn't as if it was a very big deal. I'd had the laser treatments and having the little remaining hair waxed would achieve what I had wanted since I had my first shave three years earlier. I knew what it would be like and that didn't seem to be an issue in my mind.
“I certainly appreciate it when it's baby smooth and you look amazingly good that way. You can even get rid of your little chevron.”
“You've mentioned getting it removed a couple of times. Does it bother you that much?”
“Not really. It just seems a little out of place when you're otherwise smooth from head to toe.”
“That's true. I'll have it taken care of,” I said suddenly finding my hesitation melting away.
“Why so quiet,” Matthew asked as the silence I had lapsed into became prolonged.
“I was just thinking back to my first few months as a graduate student. A woman engineer is rare enough, but a bald woman engineer is rarity raised to a large power. I'm definitely over any qualms about being completely and permanently bald. I'll get it done as soon as I can get an evening appointment after I've had enough hair growth that it can be waxed. Do you think your Mom is still interested in trying the bald look? She seemed very complimentary when we last visited.”
“Good question. I think the thought has been through her mind a few times. She certainly wants to have a bald daughter-in-law. What are you thinking?”
“It would be very special to have a bald Mother-in-Law at our wedding. I think I'm ready to do a little proselytizing on the subject. I'll take a week off as soon as I get through my thesis defense and get things started for our wedding. In the meantime I'm going to get my head waxed. And right now I want to enjoy the meal I see our waiter bringing and after that the concert and after that …. well, you.” I exclaimed with a burst of exuberance.
“An excellent plan. Let's concentrate on the scrimp scampi and this excellent wine for a while,” Matthew laughed sensing that I had regained my usual enthusiasm and self-assurance.
We had had a very good weekend the prior week, but my libido was at low ebb as a result of the intense work that I had done the prior two weeks to finish my thesis and submit it. It had been renewed in the intervening week and I looked forward to a rousing romp between the sheets. Matthew had become even more adept at arousing me if that was possible.
So some time near midnight we slipped between the sheets of my bed and enjoyed each other thoroughly and exuberantly. As usual, Matthew quickly aroused me in no uncertain manner.
“There! That's it. Ah …....... Oh, that's good! Huh, huh, huh,” I laughed as Matthew almost caused me to orgasm. I was experiencing some great feelings.
“That's enough! I need you in me! Ahhhhhh! That's good! That's really good!” A few minutes later I had a massive orgasm followed quickly by Matthew orgasm's which triggered another one for me.
Two hour later, after yet another round of sex, we lay side by side, utterly spent by our exertions. The next morning we enjoyed another round. This time we could stay awake and actually have a little conversation.
Matthew described my approach to our sex as being carried out with engineering precision, each step calculated exactly to achieve the desired result and everything coming together precisely in the culmination. I laughed at his fanciful description, but I had to admit that there was more than a little truth to it.
Saturday morning I called the clinic where my laser treatments had taken place and made an appointment for having my head waxed smooth. By now, with Matthew's encouragement and my own revived self-assurance, I looked forward to getting it done and experiencing the result of a super smooth bald head.
Unfortunately I would have to let my hair grow for the next ten day to have enough hair growth that the waxing would be effective. So the next weekend with Matthew would have to be a stay at home one. I really didn't want to go out with my ridiculous looking head of sparse and somewhat bristly hair. Fortunately it had a minimal impact on our sex life.
It was near five O'clock on Wednesday. I had a few small things to take care of, but I would leave within a half hour. I decided to take one last trip down the hall to the mail room where, along with all the other grad students, I had a mail slot where I received announcements and other campus news. Along with the usual stuff there was a note from Professor Jonas's secretary asking me, actually telling me, that I was scheduled to have a meeting with him the next morning at nine O'clock. My heart skipped a beat or two, then settled down. Of course it had to be about my thesis and I knew I had done a very good job. I couldn't rule out the possibility that someone on my committee would find fault with some part and I'd have to rewrite it, but I wasn't going to dwell on that possibility.
The next morning I purposely delayed my return to my office until just before nine O'clock. When I greeted Professor Jonas's secretary she indicated that I should go in immediately.
Professor Jonas greeted me with a smile.
“I'm sure you suspect this is about your thesis and you're right. So what are you expecting?”
I was taken aback briefly. He was putting me on the spot. I could be the soul of modesty or I could be a little too arrogant. It would be hard to find a middle ground.
“I believe that I did a good job on it, but it's certainly possible I overlooked something or made a mistake,” I said not actually believing it for a minute.
“I think you know better than that. No one had a single significant question or criticism. You have a couple dozen typos to correct and one awkward sentence to rewrite. All five reviewers accepted it with high praise. I'm going to arrange for your thesis defense sometime within the next two weeks. Congratulations Alana. You did an outstanding job during your time here.”
“Thank you sir,” I answered very sincerely. He had accepted his bald woman graduate student with no apparent misgivings and had been a fine mentor. I'm not sure he ever noticed that I was bald. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my skills and hard work.
So I retreated from Professor Jonas's office and to my own office, which I shared it with three other grad students. They were there and seeing me with the copies of my thesis they were eager to know what had happened. When I told them my thesis had been accepted, they were momentarily stunned. It was claimed that Professor Katzen, who was on my committee, had never accepted a doctoral thesis on it's first submission. I did know that none of the ones submitted to him in the past three years had made in through him the first time. So maybe I had done something rather unusual.
As soon as I could I gave Matthew a call to tell him the good news. When he answered the phone he didn't let me get a word in.
“So your thesis was accepted and you'll be doing your oral defense in a week or two,” he said before I could open my mouth.
“You shouldn't be so certain about things. It could have been different.”
“I don't think it could. I'm no expert in that field of study but it seemed to me that you left nothing to chance and really covered all the bases.”
“Well, that's what I'm supposed to do. That's what it's all about!” I retorted.
“Most of us can't do it nearly as well as you can. That's what makes you special.”
“OK. That's enough of that. I'll have my oral defense within two weeks. I can go back home and get things underway for the wedding before commencement. I'm thinking late July to early August. I need to apply for a post doc at a few schools too. We can talk some more tonight. I need to look at these five copies and fix all the typos and misspellings and stuff. I want to get that out of the way.”
“OK. Give me a call when things have settled down.”
After saying our goodbyes I quickly set to work correcting all the typos and misspellings. There were a lot of duplications, but also plenty of separate ones too. It got to be a slog and I stopped once to berate myself for making so many of them. Several hours later, after my lunch of a sandwich and an apple, I had finally corrected the last typo. I slept soundly that night. The disc would go to the editor the next morning.
The next morning I started the process of applying for a post doc appointment. Tech was the first on my list, but there were others that were well worth considering.
By four in the afternoon I was ready to take a break and relax for the first time in two months. I went home early and fixed myself a better than normal dinner. At seven I applied the desensitizing lotion to my head, being careful to cover it completely. There was still some left in the tube, so I applied it to my little chevron of pubic hair. No point in suffering the discomfort unnecessarily.
I called Matthew and we chatted about the wedding and related items for half an hour at which point I told him I had to go to get my head done. I don't know why doing this kept giving me the heebie-jeebies. I knew there was no basis for it, but nevertheless I kept getting anxious whenever I thought about it. It was nothing like what happened when I got my head shaved the first time, but it made me slightly annoyed at myself. I got in my car and drove the few miles to the spa, parked and walked inside to the reception area. Gina was on duty that evening. I knew her from my laser treatments.
“Hi Alana. Mia will be right with you,” Gina greeted me.
“OK,” I responded as I sat down.
My anxiety was beginning to ease and I started to feel more relaxed. I closed my eyes for a moment. Then I heard Mia's voice.
“Hi, Alana. I'm ready for you. Come on back.”
“OK,” I said as I opened my eyes and stood up.
“Are you OK,” Mia asked, a little worry tinging her voice.
“I'm fine. It's been a tense couple of weeks for me waiting to hear from my thesis committee.”
“Oh, right! I keep forgetting that you're working on your PhD. How did it go?” Mia asked.
“It passed. I just finished cleaning up the typos and a couple of poorly written sentences. I'll have my oral defense next week.”
“Well, let's get your head done. You'll want to be looking your best for that,” Mia laughed
“There is that,” I joined her in laughing, my anxiety finally dispelled.
“I'll do another application of the desensitizing cream and we'll be ready to start in about five minutes,” Mia said quickly reverting to her professional manner.
“I have another request for you. Maybe you can do that while we wait. I've decided to get rid of the last of my pubic hair. I used the desensitizing cream on it already. It's a very small patch,” I explained.
“No problem. Take off your slacks and lie back. As I recall from when I did a little cleanup down there, it's pretty small. Yes, that will be simple. I'll put on a little desensitizing cream and take care of it in a couple of minutes.”
She did it in two strips – the first removing a little more than half of my chevron. I felt it and gave a little gasp, but it was not a serious discomfort. The second one was even easier.
“There! Very nice and smooth. A little hydro-cortisone cream will reduce the redness. You can get dressed now and I'll get started on your head,” Mia said in a matter-of-fact voice belying the fact that this would be a unique experience for both of us. She raised me to the upright position of the chair.
All of her tools and materials were laid out on the little tray attached to the reclining chair that was much like a dentist's chair, although I would be sitting up for the rest of the session. She lowered the chair, yet another of its clever mechanisms, so that my head was at the proper height. There wasn't much hesitation on her part. She used a pre-wax cleanser to remove the remnants of the desensitizing cream then simply began by using a small plastic spatula to apply a strip of wax to the side of my head in front of my ear. A cloth strip was pressed downwards onto the wax. The wax was supposed to be warm, but the desensitizing cream had done its job and I didn't feel anything. She repeated the process four more times leaving small gaps between the strips.
Then came the moment of truth as she grasped the bottom end of the first cloth strip with her right hand, held the skin below firmly with her left hand and removed the strip of wax and the attached hairs using a firm continuous motion. There was an audible ripping sound. I had held my breath as she removed the strip and was immediately relieved when there was only a modest sensation and almost no pain. After that the process proceeded with little comment by either of us.
An hour later, with my head waxing nearing completion I began to experience some significant discomfort as the effects of the desensitizing cream started to wear off. By then Mia was using tweezers to remove stray hairs that she found by dint of intensive searching.
“That's about it for today Alana. You should be good for at least four weeks. You'll probably need another session in about six weeks.” Mia advised me as she applied some hydro-cortisone cream to my head, spread it evenly and gently rubbed it until it disappeared.
“Thanks Mia. You did your usual outstanding job,” I told her as I ran my hand over my silky smooth head, savoring it. I was near the end of my journey which began at just wishing to experience being bald to being totally and permanently bald. It was a slightly giddy feeling. I would have loved to share it with Matthew.
“I've finally gotten over the initial shock of working on a bald woman. I've seen you so often that I've come to appreciate just how good you look with your bald head,” Mia said, offering an honest compliment for the first time.
Finally I was feeling entirely comfortable with having my head waxed and knew that I would have it done again at least once before my yet to be scheduled wedding.
When Matthew arrived that weekend, he was quick to observe just how smooth my head was. It was obviously a turn-on for him, but surprisingly it was a turn-on for me as well.
So we engaged in a great deal of sex on that weekend.
No need to go into detail about my orals. I was confident that I knew my subject well. I didn't get nervous and I answered their questions without hesitation. When it was over, I had no qualms at all. After a twenty minute wait, when my grad student friends were much more nervous than I, the committee chairman came out to tell me that I had passed.
I immediately went to my office to retrieve my cell phone and call Matthew.
“What A surprise,” he quipped when I told him I had passed.
He had always had a supreme confidence in what I could do. It made him special for me.
I left for home Saturday morning. The drive home was uneventful. I arrived about two pm and parked in front of the house. I had alerted Mom a half hour earlier when I stopped to get gas.
When I got out of the car and started to retrieve my medium sized item of luggage, Mom emerged from the house.
“Alana, It's so good to see you! Your room is all ready,” she gushed a little in her enthusiasm.
“Mom! It's great to be back for a while. I'm going to enjoy being here,” I told her quite honestly as we embraced and she kissed me on the cheek.
“I'm so happy for you. You look wonderful. How was the drive?”
“Thanks. I feel very good about everything. The drive was pretty easy. I didn't stop for lunch, so maybe I can fix something easy.”
“Let me do it. Just take your bag up to your room and take a little break. I'll have something ready in fifteen minutes. Corinne left a message for you. I put it on your dresser. She and Walter want to take you out to dinner some night soon.”
“Well, that's nice. I haven't seen them for a while. Let me get my luggage upstairs and rest for a few minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later I was sitting at the breakfast table with a bowl of soup in front of me, a nice salad beside it and a large chunk of chewy multigrain bread on a side plate.
“Thanks, Mom. This looks yummy!”
“You're welcome. Is it OK if I ask you about your hair?”
“Of course Mom. What do you want to know?”
“Well, your head looks completely smooth. Did you do what you said your were going to do?”
“My head really is completely smooth now. I had it waxed last week. It will look just like this from now on. Having it like this makes me very happy. It's what I always wanted. And, of course, I'll be a bald bride. Matthew wouldn't want it any other way.”
“It's OK Alana. I wasn't going to try to get you to wear a wig or anything foolish like that. You look very elegant and self-assured. It does seem to suit you. You carry yourself with such confidence that it comes through as quite attractive in a slightly exotic way. I probably shouldn't ask this, but would you mind if I felt it?”
“Of course not Mom. I'm actually pleased that you want to experience what a smooth bald head feels like.”
This was a true breakthrough for Mom. My first year of being bald had been hard on her. She kept expecting me to start letting it grow. She was disappointed when I kept it shaved. By the second year she was resigned to the idea that I was going to stay bald. So she had accepted my baldness for the past two years. When I started my laser treatments the reality of having a permanently bald daughter became too obvious to ignore. Now she was on the verge of finding it attractive and appealing. Dad had long ago accepted the fact that I was going to remain a bald woman and by the time I returned home that first Christmas Holiday he had come to see me as very attractive.
“It feels almost like a baby's head it's so smooth. It always seems to have a little glow. Somehow it looks quite natural.”
“That's the only thing about it that's not natural. I keep it polished so it has that nice glow. If I worked up a sweat the natural oils would have the same effect,” I laughed a little at Mom's admission.
“At first I thought it very strange, but now I've become very proud of my highly accomplished and beautiful bald daughter. I'm eager to be part of your wedding and I'll do anything I can to help get things set up for you.”
“Thanks Mom. We'll get started tomorrow. I think the first thing to do is decide where would be a good place to have it.”
When Dad returned from work he greeted me exuberantly and with a great deal of praise for my accomplishments.
“So you're a truly bald woman now. Your head looks beautifully sleek and smooth with that little glow. You're a very striking and elegant looking woman. Being bald seems to suit you. Your self-assurance is very apparent. I think your head is smoother and more beautiful than ever!”
“Thanks Dad. I'm very pleased with it. I've never had any doubt about being bald. It's exactly what I want. It makes me feel very good and very special.”
“You're certainly very special. I never imagined having a Doctor of Philosophy in the house,” Dad chuckled.
“Well, you'll have one officially in a couple of weeks,” I retorted.
“By the way. You remember my friend John Hanson don't you. He was always teasing you when you were small.”
“I remember him. He was like an Uncle to me while I was growing up. What about him?”
“He's a magistrate now. Among his many duties he marries people. He would be delighted to do the honors when you get married. I'm pretty sure he's never officiated at the wedding of a bald woman,” Dad said laughing.
“There's always a first time. I have a lot of fond memories of him. So he would he like to officiate at my wedding? That would make it a little more special.”
“He mentioned it to me a week ago when I told him you were getting married.”
“OK. I'd be happy to have him do it. I'd like to talk to him sometime soon though.”
I called Corinne that evening and we set Wednesday as the day they would treat me to dinner. I would drive over to their place an hour early to spend a little time with “Mum” as I had taken to calling her after Matthew's example. Corinne was obviously pleased that I addressed her that way.
She had always admired my bald head, and often mentioned how good it looked. So now I determined to engage in a little subtle promotion regarding getting her own head shaved. I was quite certain that her husband Walter would have no problem if she did. In fact, I had the impression from his body language that he might encourage it.
Wednesday at a little before five in the afternoon I drove to Corrine's house to spend a few hours with her and Walter. For the past three years she had treated me as though I was her long lost daughter. We got along famously. I found her engaging and very easy to talk to.
She had the door open before I could ring the bell.
“Alana, I'm so glad to see you. It's been far to long. Come in! Would you like some iced tea or lemonade?” she bubbled over with enthusiasm.
“I'm happy to be here Mum. It always feel special to visit you and Pop. Matthew is a very lucky guy to have the two of you as his parents. I'd love a glass of your iced tea,” I responded quite sincerely.
“We did our best, but Matthew didn't require much parenting.”
“He's a special guy, that's for sure.”
“And he found a very special woman. Your head looks beautifully silky smooth. I don't see any hint that you have any hair. It looks quite lovely with the warm glow that you always have. What did you do to achieve that look?”
“Well, Mum, I took the final step to be a completely and permanently bald woman. I had it waxed. It will last for a month or two. I'll have it waxed again before the wedding. I'm exceptionally pleased with it. It's finally reaching the point that I've always dreamed of achieving. I'm glad you like it. The glow is from the polish that I use every day. Actually I'm convinced that a lot of women would look much better with no hair, and a lot more would look at least as good without hair as they look with hair,” I told her, taking the first little step in my plan to encourage her fascination with the idea of baldness.
“I have another question for you, but it can wait until we get our glasses of iced tea and retire to the gazebo,” Mum said. I instantly had thoughts running through my head, most of which centered on baldness.
“This is an amazing garden, Mum. How does Alonzo keep it looking so good?”
“I really don't know Alana. I certainly couldn't keep it looking like this. I couldn't keep up with it and it was a mess until he took over.”
“This is good ice tea. It has a little peach flavor to it.”
“It's easy to make. I like the combination.”
We sat in silence for a moment or two just taking in the beauty of the flowers and the pleasantness of a wonderful day at the end of May. Finally Corinne voiced her question.
“You know Alana, I really love the way you look with no hair and a silky smooth and shiny head. I'm very tempted to try the bald look myself. Do you think I'd look OK with a bald head?”
The question took me by surprise. It arrived much sooner than I had expected. I had fully expected to have to do a good deal more subtle persuasion before she got to this point. She had been thinking about it a lot more than I had imagined. So I answered her in complete honesty with no hesitation.
“Mum, you'd be absolutely gorgeous if you were bald. It would suit you perfectly!” I exclaimed actually meaning it.
“I sort of hinted at the idea to Walter. He didn't seem perturbed. I guess I'd better just ask him outright.”
“That's right Mum. Pop seems to be quite accepting and complimentary of my bald head, but that's not the same as you having a bald head.”
“I agree Alana. When will you be going back to College Park?”
“Sunday afternoon. I have a few things to wrap up and get my copies of my thesis. By then it will be too close to the commencement for me to make another trip back,” I answered, a bit curious about the reason for the question.
“We'll be going to the commencement for sure and it's only two weeks after this coming Sunday. It is getting close.”
We chatted about other things for an enjoyable hour until Walter arrived. As usual he was quite effusive.
“Hello, Alana. Beautiful as ever. Your bald head continually surprises me at how well it suits you and how well you carry it off. We shouldn't be making so much of that when inside that marvelous head is a brain that puts us all to shame. So Dr. Godwin, congratulation on your success. You have accomplished something quite extraordinary it seems to me.”
Trying my best to assume my most professional demeanor I responded.
“Thank you very much for that compliment sir. I hope that I continue to meet your highest expectations.”
At that point I couldn't help but succumb to a little laugh that was just short of being a giggle.
Walter laughed with me as we shared this little bit of repartee.
“Come on Walter it's time for us to be on our way to the Mill House,” Corinne intervened before we could continue in the same vein.
We had finished our meal and were waiting for our dessert to arrive when Corinne sprung her surprise.
“Well Walter, you've made it quite obvious that you admire Alana's bald head. What would you think if I decided to copy her?”
There was dead silence for a moment that I didn't dare break into. Once again Corinne had completely surprised me. I held my breath.
“Before I answer that I need to ask Alana a question. In your opinion would my lovely wife Corinne look good with a bald head as smooth and shiny as yours?”
I felt no hesitation in answering.
“Absolutely. She would be very striking and would look absolutely marvelous as a bald woman. Her short hair makes her look young and being bald would make her look even younger. It would be the perfect head style for her.”
“I agree with her Corinne. When will you get it done? The sooner the better,” Walter exclaimed.
I was astounded by his instant and total affirmation of what I was sure was his previously unspoken desire to have a bald wife.
“You've wanted me to get my head shaved all along haven't you?” Corinne accused him.
“That's right. But it had to be your choice. I didn't want to influence you in any way, although my admiration of Alana's bald head probably had some unintended influence.”
“Well I'm tempted, but I'll need to think about it a little more. I'm not like Alana who had wanted to do it most of her life. I'm not sure I have the kind of self-assurance that she has either,” she explained.
The next two days were busy working out seemingly endless details. I had contacted two of my friends – one from high school and a second from college – with whom I had maintained close contact. Claire Danzig was working on her PhD in physics at State. We had met in college where we found ourselves taking several of the same courses in physics and math. We had managed a couple of brief meetings in the past three years, but remained in contact via E-mail and Skype. Penny Bensen was an old high school friend who was an economics major in college, but we had a lot of common interests. She worked for a local investment firm. Like me she had a live in partner. Unlike me her partner was another woman. Her partner Lynn was a likable woman too and we got along well. She was a graphics designer and worked mostly from their spacious townhouse. Claire and Penny would be my two “bridesmaids” although I thought the name was silly and certainly didn't reflect reality.


Late Friday afternoon the phone rang for the umpteenth time. Mom answered and I overheard her speaking to Corinne from the kitchen phone.
“Oh, hi Corinne. Yes she's right here. I'll get her.”
“Alana, it's Corinne. She wants to talk to you.”
“I'll take it from the other phone.”
I had a premonition about what it might be about.
“Hello Mum. Good to hear from you. Is everything OK?”
“Everything is just fine, Alana. I just wanted to know where you got your first head shave. I think you said it was in a barbershop. I'm not sure I'd be comfortable there.”
“It was in that fancy barbershop spa downtown. It's not like a regular barbershop at all. It caters to women as well as men. A wonderful woman barber did my shave. She was marvelous. She knew exactly what I was feeling and did a fantastic job.”
“Really! Maybe that's where I should go. Are you free tomorrow morning?”
“You want to get it done tomorrow?” I responded a little incredulously.
“I've made up my mind to get it done and I want to do it before I get a big case of the jitters and change my mind. Walter thinks I would look great and anyway I want it to get a little color before the wedding. Can you go with me?” She responded a little breathlessly.
I'd be delighted to go with you. It's been quite a while since I last saw Wanda. I want to give her an invitation personally.”
“That would be wonderful Alana. I'd like to get there by ten O’clock.”
“I could come by your place at nine thirty and pick you up. I know my way around and where to park.”
“That's even better. I'm sure I'll have a case of jitters, but I'll get through them and do what I've been thinking of for the past three years. Walter will be thrilled.”
“I sure he will be. And you will be thrilled as well, I predict.”
“Thanks Alana. I'm looking forward to the experience and to having a silky smooth head like yours.”
“I'll be there promptly at nine thirty. See you then Mum.”
I hung up the phone and sat back to enjoy the moment. Corinne's conversion to a bald woman had obviously been in process for a good while. She had just needed a small push to make the transition, but in the event, she had received one good sized stimulus from me and a huge jolt from Walter.
“Mom, I'm going out with Corinne tomorrow morning. We be gone for a few hours at most. She wants my advice on a couple of outfits she's considering for the wedding,” I fibbed without a single pang of conscience.
“That's fine dear. We've been making amazing progress and there's not a lot more that we can do.”
Corinne, who had once worked as a wedding consultant, had quietly taken over much of the drudgery of getting all the details right, setting up the reception in the Church's large activities hall and arranging all the details for the dinner afterward. Her large house would be home to a good sized contingent of Aunts and Uncles from Walter's and her families.
So Saturday morning I was up, my head polished, and breakfast finished by nine O’clock. Ten minutes later I told Mom that I was leaving.
“I'd better get going Mom. I should be back in two or three hours.”
“Take your time Alana. Say hello to Corinne for me.”
“I will. See you later.”
Corinne was ready to go when I arrived.
“I'm all set Alana. I'm eager to get started. At the same time I'm a little bit anxious.”
“I almost backed out before I finally got control of myself and walked in. You'll be fine,” I encouraged her.
“What should I expect?” she asked me.
“Oh! It's an elegant barbershop that makes you think you've stepped back into the nineteen twenties. Everything looks new and spotless. They all have twenties haircuts and styles, even Wanda. They offer a lot of other services in the upstairs part. I've never been up there, but their brochure describes some of the things such as a steam room, body massages, whirlpool bath and personal grooming. I'll tell them we're waiting for Wanda. When she asks you what you want her to do you should say that you'll have a deluxe head shave and polish. Then you just sit back and enjoy the pampering.”
We arrived at the shop well before ten. When we entered Corinne was as surprised as I had been as she looked around the spacious room that was the perfect replica of a nineteen twenties high class barber shop.
After the usual greeting, we looked around.
“This is amazing Alana. I had no idea that such a shop still existed.”
“They do a great job of creating the ambiance of a vintage shop. Let's have a seat across from Wanda.”
There were only two customers in the shop at the moment and only two barbers. We were the only customers waiting. As we sat down, Wanda recognized me.
“Good to see you again Alana.”
“Hi Wanda. Let me introduce Corinne to you. She's my Mother-in-law to be.”
“Glad to meet you Corinne. So you're going to have a beautiful bald daughter-in-law!”
“Good to meet you too Wanda. You did a great job on Alana three years ago. I'm very pleased to have such a wonderful bald young woman as my soon to be daughter-in-law.”
“Thanks. I do my best, but she was a pleasure to do. She's a great looking bald woman. I'm almost finished here.”
Wanda was putting the final touches on an unusual short haircut on a woman Corinne's age. Her dark hair had been cut very short on the sides and back with the top left much longer. The front was the longest. It tapered to a length of perhaps two inches at the crown. Wanda had persuaded it to stand up smartly in the front before turning toward the back and diminishing in height.
“There you go Joyce. How does it look? Is that what you had in mind?”
The attractive woman reached up to touch the back of her head where the top hair came down to meet the closely clippered back just below the crown. Wanda held a large hand mirror so that Joyce could examine her profile.
“Perfect! You got it exactly right. It's a perfect rock-a-billy pompadour!” Joyce exclaimed happily.
I thought it was quite novel. It was eye catching to say the least. I did wonder how much trouble it would be to keep it looking the way it did.
“Well, Mum, it looks like you're next. Are you holding up OK?”
“I'm fine Alana. Just sitting here in this very old fashioned barbershop has gotten me quite relaxed. And I'm impressed by the skill that Wanda just demonstrated. That must be a very difficult style to create.”
“Next,” Wanda said as she returned from the register and stood behind her chair. The floor was now clean. The young woman who worked there had instantly appeared to sweep up the significant amount of hair that had been cut from Joyce's head.
Mum had walked unhesitatingly to the large barber chair, stepped up onto the platform and pushed herself back into the cushion.
“And what can I do for you today, Corinne,” Wanda asked.
There was a barely perceptible hesitation as Corinne turned her head slightly toward the side where Wanda was standing.
“A deluxe head shave and polish,” Corinne said, her voice registering confidence.
“Oh! A deluxe head shave. I can do that!” Wanda exclaimed, clearly surprised, that this forty something woman would make such a request and with such a lack of hesitancy.
Corinne, who was forty eight, smiled at Wanda's startled reaction, then settled into the chair, making herself comfortable.
As usual Wanda rotated the chair away from the mirror before she started. She picked up her large Oster clipper and replaced the cutter head with what I assumed was a much closer cutting one.
“I'm ready to get started,” Wanda said, still a little hesitant, not quite convinced that Corinne was as assured as she sounded.
“I think it's indeed time to get started. I've waited far too long. Please don't hesitate,” Corinne replied in a supremely assured and calm voice that betrayed no hint of anxiety or hesitation.
“OK,” was all that Wanda could muster in response to this uncompromising tone of voice.
I was equally surprised. I had heard Corinne shift into her professional voice when she was speaking to a caterer or someone else who was involved in the wedding, but this was different. It was authoritative without being overbearing, commanding without being blustery. Wanda didn't hesitate and wasted no time in small talk as she had with me. The clipper was placed at Corinne's forehead and pushed back to the crown. In short order the top of Corinne's head had been relieved of its hair except for the covering of bristles no longer than a quarter of a millimeter.
“Is it normal for you to do a complete head shave without your customer ever seeing you work?”
“Oh, yes. That was how it was done back in the twenties and we're trying to maintain that old tradition. Would you like to see how you look? I think you're going to look very elegant and attractive,” Wanda responded as she rotated the chair so that it faced the mirror.
“You look very good Mum. You'll look wonderful after it's shaved and polished,” I found myself commenting even though I had told myself to keep my mouth shut.
“Indeed it does, Alana. I'm going to enjoy having a smooth bald head. I look forward to when it has a more natural look.”
“I'll turn you back now so I can do your shave. When you're polished it will look almost natural. By the way Alana. Your head looks astonishingly good. The color is very natural and I can't see a hint of a shadow,” Wanda said.
I had wondered if she would notice the difference and sure enough she did. I was impressed.
“Oh, that's because I had it waxed just over two weeks ago. It should remain smooth for another month at least. I'll have it waxed again a week or so before the wedding,” I explained, having no idea the effect that such an innocuous statement would have.
“Of course! I should have realized that from the beginning. Well, it certainly looks outstanding. You know that you can get it done right here. They do waxing in the spa area upstairs. I doubt they've ever done a woman's head before, but they've done men,” Wanda immediately responded.
“That's right. I should have remembered that. I'll make an appointment before we leave,” I responded, relieved that I wouldn't have to seek out some other place that I didn't know.
Wanda had already applied the hot towel to Corrine's head and was now spreading the hot lather over it, giving Corrine a luxurious head massage in the process. Corrine's eyes were closed and a faint smile was mute witness to the sensuous pleasure that she was experiencing.
“OK, now we can begin getting your head looking its best,” Wanda joked as she stropped her razor.
I watched in fascination as she proceeded. It's one thing to experience a head shave, but not watching it does leave something out, even if having it done by the exceptional hands of Wands was liable to put you in a semi-trance. Corrine was clearly approaching that state as Wanda removed the foam and the tiny bristles. As Corrine's smooth head slowly emerged I was rewarded with the sight of a bald woman who was going to wear her baldness exceptionally well. I could only vaguely imagine the impact it would have on Walter, but it was going to be, well, stupendous was probably an understatement.
The first shave done, Wanda proceeded to clean off Corrine's head with a damp cloth and then dry it.
“I expect you'd like to have a look at yourself before we proceed to the second shave,” Wanda said to Corrine as she rotated her chair to face the mirror once again.
I was gratified to see a broad smile engulf Corrine's face as she observed the striking woman that she had become. As I had predicted she looked even younger. If I didn't already know her age, I would have been hard pressed to ascribe to her an age much beyond her late thirties. She would wear her bald head beautifully and quite proudly I expected.
“I think I've finally arrived at the hairstyle, or head style as Alana puts it, that will last me for a lifetime. It's exactly right. It could not be better. Well, maybe just a little to make it silky smooth and polished, which I'm sure you're prepared to do,” Corinne expressed her complete satisfaction with what Wanda had accomplished so far.
“Yes, that's right. As soon as I've cleaned off the shaving cream and dried your head, I put on the shaving oil and give you the ultimate shave. Then I give you a deluxe polish on your head,” Wanda confirmed the plan.
It was fascinating to watch Wanda do the ultimate shave, and then giving Corinne's head a deluxe polish. When she finally turned off her little polishing machine, she turned Corinne to face the mirror. By that time Corinne was quite relaxed and was thoroughly enjoying the attention.
“All done,” Wanda announced as she removed the cape and the paper strip around her neck.
“Corinne smiled broadly then reached up to put two fingers on her head which she used to explore it before finally putting her whole hand on it and doing a complete traversal.
“How extraordinary! And how wonderful it looks. I think I've never looked better,” Corinne said as she continued to smile, look at herself from every angle and explore her baby smooth polished head.
“Mum, it suits you perfectly. It could not be better!” I offered my own assessment.
“I agree and so I'll have to get used to keeping it like this everyday. I'll probably need a little coaching at first, but I'll get the hang of it soon enough. What will I need.”
“Wanda can provide shaving oil and the polishing wax. We'll go to the department store for the shaver. They have an automotive section, so they might have a chamois cloth. If not we'll stop at that automotive store at the mall near where I live.”
“OK. I need to get used to being seen in public with my bald head. Actually I'm going to enjoy showing it off,” Corinne laughed.
Sounds like you're a convert,” I kidded her.
“I am! I'm already loving it! It's a sort of giddy feeling in a good way. I'm ready to have the world greet me as a bald woman,” Corinne said, her self-confidence on full display.
“Absolutely. Let's pay for your shave and the supplies and get to the department store. But first I need to go upstairs to the spa and set up an appointment to have my head waxed about a week before the wedding,” I told her.
While I was waiting for Corinne to pay her bill I remembered the wedding invitation that I had in my bag that was addressed to Wanda. I rummaged about for it and finally had it in my hand.
“Wanda, you had more to do with me getting married than you would have imagined. My fiance has always loved my bald head. So I would be delighted if you could attend our wedding. You'd be a special quest,” I explained as I handed her the envelop with the invitation inside.
“My goodness. I've never had one of my clients actually invite me to their wedding. I'll certainly try to come. Thank you Alana,” she responded quite sincerely.
“Alana, would you mind taking me over to your place before I go home? I have a few things to talk over with you and Eleanor regarding the wedding plans.”
“Of course,” I answered, but thinking that she had some additional reason to make the request, such as wanting Mom to see her as a bald woman. Perhaps she has some ulterior reason as well, such as seeing if she could convince Mom to join her in baldness. I was quite certain that anything like that was not in the cards.
So we arrived at my house, parked out front and walked briskly to the front door which I unlocked and we entered.
“Is that you Alana?” Mom's voice emerged from the Kitchen.
“It's me and Corinne,” I answered as we headed in that direction.
“Come on in. I'm just cutting up some vegetables,” Mom said as we entered. She had rinsed off her hands and was reaching for a paper towel to dry them. When she turned around her eyes got big and her jaw dropped.
“Corinne! What have you done?” she asked, obviously stunned.
“Well, I was tired of my old haircut and I decided to try something that has always fascinated me. I'm absolutely delighted with it,” Corinne answered.
“Mom was at a complete loss for a reply. In those few words Corinne had effectively answered the two questions that would be on the tip of the tongue of almost every woman. Finally she turned to me.
“Alana, did you let her do this?” Mom asked, her tone slightly accusatory.
“Me? I just took her where she wanted to go. It was her own decision. I think she looks stupendous though,” I answered.
“Eleanor. You mustn't blame it on Alana. It was absolutely what I wanted to do and Walter wanted me to do it. He'll be just as happy with it as I am,” Corinne responded.
“I guess I just can't understand why any woman would want to do that,” Mom added.
We were all silent for a moment. Then Corinne took over as though nothing had happened.
“We have a few items to take care of Eleanor. We can be a little more frugal if we use the flowers from the wedding for the reception. That is easy. We just need to decide on the kind of flowers and arrangements you would like and keep the cost under control.”
We discussed and came to agreement on several issues. By then Mom's shock had largely dissipated and she was almost back to her normal self. When Corinne said she needed to get back to her home, they embraced warmly to my great relief.
“Did you expect my Mom to have such a reaction?” I asked Corinne as I drove her home.
“I knew she would be shocked, but I also expected she would calm down and get used to the idea fairly quickly. I also think that she has an internal conflict. We talked about you being bald several months ago and she admitted that when she doesn't think about it she admires your bald head and sees it as very attractive and appealing. When she thinks about it she sees it in the context of our cultural norms. I'm going against the cultural norms, so that's going to have an impact. You're her daughter, but I'm just a friend, so she has to re-evaluate how she thinks about it. I think you may see a change come about,” Corinne explained.
“That's a little too deep for me. I'm a much better engineer than I am a psychologist,” I laughed.
“Once she lets loose of the cultural norms lifeline that she's been clinging to, anything can happen. She'd be a very good looking bald woman you know,” Corinne told me.
“Oh, Mum, that's not going to happen. She's too stuck in her ways to go that far,” I responded.
“Don't discount it quite yet. Give it a little time to settle in. Well, here we are. I've got work to do. I'll see you at the Commencement or earlier. We'll come a day early. I've made reservations. Maybe all six of us can go out to dinner,” Corinne suggested.
“That would be nice Mum. I'll see you next week then,” I said as we exchanged a warm embrace.
Back at home Corinne's decision to shave her head became the main topic of discussion during our evening meal. It was discussed but finally Dad put all the information into a perfect summary.
“So that about tells it all. She wanted to do it, Walter was more than just supportive, and she was happy with the result,” Dad summarized.
“You may hear more from her in a day or two Mom. I'm sure there will be more things to work out regarding the wedding. I'm sorry I'm not going to be much help for the next week. I have a lot of things to wrap up at school, but I'll see you when you arrive for the Commencement. I wish I could accommodate you in my apartment, but it's just too small,” I explained.
My week passed quickly. I received copies of my thesis, cleaned up my office at school and generally took care of most of the little stuff that involved me taking my final leave from grad school. My fellow students even gave me a little farewell party. I had received a response to my application for a post doc at Tech. I called Professor Dabney, the department head, to arrange a time for my interview.
By then it was Thursday and the commencement would be on Monday. I Had my cap and tassel as well as my gown, so I was prepared. My parents and my in-laws to be would arrive Friday afternoon and we planned to go out to dinner. There were outings planned for Saturday and Sunday.
All went as planned. Matthew arrived before the others. When they arrived we crowded into my little apartment, where I had managed to heat up a few appetizers and broke out a bottle of white wine that I had purchased for the occasion. Corinne and Walter were the first to arrive.
“Come on in,” I greeted them.
“You're as beautiful as always,” Corinne said as she gave me a warm embrace.
“And you look quite striking as well as very pleased with your self,” I responded.
“She is a very elegant and striking woman, just as you are,” Walter said as he embraced me with a kiss on the cheek.
“He was quite thrilled by my bald head, so I'm keeping it well groomed until I can achieve the same results as you. I had my first laser treatment yesterday.”
I was momentarily stunned. I could hardly comprehend the idea that she would have taken that step in less than a week. A number of thoughts chased each other through my head as I tried to keep from blurting out some inappropriate response such as “Isn't that a little hasty?” or something else even more blunt questioning her sanity. Finally I managed to get my metaphorical chin off the floor and respond calmly.
“That was quick. You're a lot more certain than I was after less than a week,” I managed to say.
“I felt very good about being bald and Walter was equally enthusiastic, so I'll have two more laser treatments before the wedding and still have two weeks to let what's left grow out enough for a waxing. I'll be very smooth for the wedding with no shadow and no need to shave. I'm really looking forward to having a beautifully smooth natural head,” Corinne explained smiling very broadly.
She was obviously delighted at the prospect of being pristinely bald. Walter had nodded in agreement, clearly well pleased with the prospect of having a baby smooth bald wife. The next thought that went through my mind was that Matthew must have inherited the bald woman loving gene from his Father.
When Mom and Dad arrived we greeted each other happily. I was very glad to see them. Mom seemed unusually happy and effusive when she greeted Corinne.
“Corinne, you look splendid. I've never seen you looking so radiant,” Mom exclaimed, clearly aware of the considerable change in Corinne's self image that had occurred just in the last week as she became fully adjusted to being bald and her already high level of confidence grew along with the pleasure she experienced at seeing and touching her smooth head. Walter's unqualified enthusiasm added fuel to that fire.
“Thanks, Eleanor. I couldn't be happier at the change. Somehow it just seems perfect and I like it more all the time,” Corinne expressed her feelings.
“I have to admit that both you and Alana do look quite strikingly feminine and attractive with your bald heads,” Mom answered much to my surprise. As Corinne had predicted she had undergone a considerable change in attitude.
An hour later Matthew arrived. He knew that his Mom was now bald, but still his first look at her was a bit of a shock. Fortunately he recovered quickly.
“Mom, you look great! I never imagined that I would have a beautiful bald Mother. Now the two most important women in my life look absolutely ethereal.”
I thought that was a bit much, but I think he actually meant it.
It was during our dinner that a comment by Mom almost caused me to choke on a carrot that I had just popped into my mouth.
“My goodness, but you too look quite good when I see you sitting across from me. I guess I'm going to be the odd one out unless I do something about it.”
I swallowed my carrot hastily and grabbed the napkin from my lab as I coughed then took a swallow of water to wash it down. I managed not to say anything and let Corinne respond.
“Don't worry about it Eleanor. You shouldn't let us influence you.”
But of course she had every intention of influencing her. She was just very subtle about it. The conversation continued a bit as Mom asked Walter what he thought. When he expressed enthusiastic support for Corinne's bald look, she dropped the subject. Still, I wondered if the seed had been sown.
I had dinner with Corinne and Walter Sunday evening. During a break in the conversation Matthew brought up Mom's 'odd one out' remark.
“What do you thing of Eleanor's statement about being 'the odd one out..' last night,” he asked Mum.
“Well, I do think it's significant. Seeing me bald seems to have had an impact on her. I will hazard a guess that she's nibbling around the edge of the thought of getting her head shaved. I doubt she's near that yet, but having me around a good bit may have some effect on her thinking. Maybe I'll be a little more up front about letting her know how much I like being bald,” Corinne laughed.
“She has actually complimented me a couple of times when I arrived home, so something has changed,” I offered.
“That's something positive. I seem to remember that Robert was very complimentary as well. He certainly seems to be taken by Corinne,” Walter said with a mischievous grin.
“He thinks I look very elegant and quite feminine. And I'm sure that Mom has noticed that he has some difficulty taking his eyes off you Mum,” I laughed.
“Perhaps she's more open to the idea than I've been thinking. A little something might tip the scale. She would certainly be a very elegant and attractive bald woman. We'll just have to wait and see what happens,” Corinne added.
Commencement was a success. I felt a big rush of adrenaline as I stepped forward to receive my diploma. It surprised me. I thought I had reached the stage that it would be quite routine, but something about the ceremony made it a lot more than than. Perhaps it was the way the audience applauded me that did it. I was a rather unique case – the only woman in the school of engineering to receive an advanced degree and the only doctorate as well.
I returned home for the first week in July to help with some things, but most importantly to deal with my wedding attire. When we did a fitting on my very non-traditional dress, the seamstress asked about a wedding veil. Good heavens! I thought – can't she see that I'm bald? We didn't order a veil.
Mom had greeted me happily.
“I'm so glad that you cam spend some time at home. You look splendid. Your head has a beautiful glow to it,” she said, surprising me with that unexpected compliment. Something had changed indeed.
“Thanks Mom. It's so automatic now that I hardly think about it even though I still enjoy running my hand over it,” I replied as I followed my words with the action of enjoying the soft smoothness of my head.
“And you've had your hair cut a lot shorter than I've ever seen it,” I added.
“I liked Corinne's old style and decided to get something like that. What do you think?”
“It looks very good on you. It makes you look younger too,” which it actually did – I wasn't just being polite.
“Thanks. Your Dad was very complimentary also. I think he'd like me to have it cut even shorter,” Mom responded, with a little laugh.
Something very significant was happening I realized. Her attitude about my bald head was changing rather quickly as her compliment about the nice glow that it had, attested. I didn't know if I could push her along that path and I quickly concluded that I should stay strictly neutral other than mentioning my own head.
“So what do we have to do?” I asked, knowing that my clothes for the wedding and reception were at the top of the list. The other issue was the addressing of the wedding invitations.
Corinne had come over one day and we had an invitation addressing party. Once again Mom offered some high praise for how Corinne looked.
“My goodness Corinne, you look better every time I see you. I think I'm beginning to appreciate how attractive and elegant you look with a bald head.”
“Thanks, Eleanor. You know you'd look even better than me if you went bald,” Corinne said, making the point openly for the first time.
“You're kidding!” Mom exclaimed with a laugh, clearly not instantly rejecting the idea.
“Not at all. You'd be a great looking bald woman. And I'll bet Robert would love it,” Corinne said laying all her cards on the table.
That was the end of the discussion for the rest of the week, although Corinne made a point of dressing quite fashionably and being just a little bit forward, which made her bald head even more striking. Mom noticed.
When I returned three weeks later, Mom's attitude had changed radically. As we greeted each other and embraced she reached out and fondled my head.
“I hope you don't mind that I did that. It feels so soft and smooth, just like a baby's head,” she said as we broke apart.
“Not at all Mom. I'm flattered that you wanted to do it, even though I'm rather too old to be much like a baby,” I laughed.
“It's just that I've come to see how attractive you are with the soft glow on your beautiful head.”
“That's wonderful to hear Mom. I'm so glad that you don't think it outlandish or weird or worse yet ugly,” I responded almost astounded at her change of attitude.
Mom laughed, then gave me a quick rundown of where everything stood. The entire spectacle (as I thought of it) of my wedding had been arranged down to the most microscopic detail. My two bridesmaids. Claire and Penny had been to a fitting and their gowns were finished and awaiting their wearers' arrival.
I was a bit surprised on Saturday morning when Mom said she was going over to Corinne's to take care of a few things. I was busy making plans to move most of my things to the large condo that Matthew had leased beginning September, so I didn't make much of it. Several hours later she returned.
“Alana I'm back. Come down. I have something to show you,” she called up the stairs.
“OK. I'll be there in just a minute,” I called back.
I stepped into the kitchen to see two bald women. I was absolutely flabbergasted. Yes, of course I had noticed Mom's change of attitude and her apparent approval of the bald heads of both me and Corinne, but I had not actually expected Mom to succumb. Nevertheless, she had.
She was bald and she was smiling at me. And I was so overwhelmed that I began to cry.
“Mom!” I stammered as I rushed over to her with tears streaming down my face. I held her for a long time.
“I need to breath Alana,” Mom finally got out with a little gasp.
I released her and looked at this smiling person with the glorious bald and glowing head. It was my Mom and I could hardly believe it. Finally I was able to speak.
“You're gorgeous Mom. What happened?”
She smiled even more broadly.
“I finally stopped worrying about what other people would think. I didn't want to be the odd one and Corinne convinced me that I would look good and would like being bald. Well, I think I do look good and I am quite happy to be bald. I need to go find Robert and see if he still thinks I look good,” Mom smiled as she headed to Dad's little shop attached to the back of the garage where he could usually be found working on some project or another.
When she was gone I turned to Corinne.
“How on earth did you manage that, Mum?”
“Oh, I had to do a few sneaky things. I made sure that your Dad would react positively if she broached the subject with him. She finally got around to asking Robert what he thought and when his response was enthusiastically positive, she was won over.”
“Pretty sneaky,” I laughed.
“What can I say. She's happy with it.”
“There is that and I'm delighted at the result,” I said in complete sincerity.
When she returned from Dad's little workshop she was a little flustered, but the smile on her face seemed to be trying to burst its bounds.
“So he approved?” Corinne asked.
“You could say that, but it would be a considerable understatement,” Mom actually giggled, something that I had never heard her do in all my years.
My fifty two year old Mom was a changed woman from then on. She kept her head meticulously shaved and polished, going to Wanda for a deluxe shave every Saturday morning, until several months later when she had her first laser treatment.
My seventy eight year old Grandmother, Mom's Mother, arrived on Sunday. She is rather frail, but definitely alive and alert and lives happily in an assisted living establishment where she has many friends. She knew I was bald, and surprisingly she was quite complimentary of my bald head when I greeted her. She had looked askance when she first saw Mom with her bald head, but she adjusted quickly. She complained that the woman who did her hair at her home never cut it short enough, so Mom took her to the local salon where she had been a regular for twenty years. The were a bit shocked when she showed up with a bald head. One of the younger operators was quite complimentary. Grandma got a neat buzz cut which she seemed to be very pleased with.
The Wednesday before the wedding, I picked up Corinne and we went to the spa for our waxings. The results were much as we had expected. My head was now exceptionally smooth. Even a determined examination revealed no hint of hair growth. Corinne was almost as good.
“My goodness it feels soft and it looks great,” Corinne said as she examined herself with a super smooth and almost completely hairless head for the first time.
“Of course, Mum! You're a great looking bald woman.”
As I had expected, Corinne wanted to visit my Mom with the express purpose of telling her how great she felt about her own rapid journey into permanent baldness. I had little doubt that Mom was going to follow suit in the near future, which is exactly what happened a few months later.
What was happening between Mom and Dad made me smile. They had quite clearly rekindled their desire for each other. They started finding excuses to go to bed early. Mom would emerge in the morning with her head well shaved and nicely polished with her face beaming. Dad would give her a prolonged kiss and fondle her head a bit before he left for work, nothing like the rather perfunctory kisses that I had been seeing most of the time in the past several years whenever I was home.
Thursday was a rare moment of easy breathing for me, and the first day in a week that Matthew and I had a little time together. We took the afternoon off and had a nice afternoon together. I had dressed up in preparation for the rehearsal and following dinner. We had promised to be back in plenty of time. We went to a fancy restaurant for lunch before visiting the new exhibit at the museum. Matthew surprised me by stopping at a local park to look at the flowers in their well tended gardens. He had an ulterior motive though. He found the spot he wanted and took a few pictures of me with the trees in the background. It was a lovely spot and I was quite surprised at how well his pictures turned out. I was especially happy with the way my head looked. It was exactly what I had always wanted.
The rehearsal went well, and the dinner was fun. Afterward Matthew and I said goodnight to each other. We had been persuaded (a polite way of saying coerced) to honor the old, and I thought silly, tradition of not seeing each other the day of the wedding until I walked down the aisle to stand before John Hanson. Someone had come up with the idea of me wearing a little circlet of fresh flowers on my head. When I finally gave in and tried it I found that it actually looked quite nice and complimented my bald head, even though I thought that too was a little silly. I guess it was a throw back to the ancient Greek tradition.
The three of us enjoyed showing off our bald heads. Of course, no one asked any of the usual questions that hinted at our lack of sanity. They usually offered bland comments of one sort or another. We were always happy to hear someone actually offer a sincere compliment and that happened a few times as well.
That wasn't true of my two bridesmaids of course. They had known for years that I was bald and had seen me on numerous occasions. I had been out with them as well whenever we had a chance to get together. The had long ago come to accept and admire my bald head. Clair, especially, envied my bald head and even contemplated trying it. Seeing me as a bald bride awakened her nascent desire to go bald and I had some hope that she might actually do it. They thought I was a beautiful bald bride.
Mom and Mum had great fun at the reception and the dinner that followed. They laughed a lot and Mom had perhaps a few too many glasses of champagne during the rather lavish reception. She was even more attractive with her contacts rather than the large framed glasses the she usually wore. It was amazing to see these two mature women greeting people and enjoying themselves so thoroughly with their beautiful bald heads. This picture taken by one of Matthew's friends tells it all.
By the time everything was done and Matthew and I made our final exit heading to our room for the night we were exhausted. We had arranged to spend our wedding night in the “bridal suite” of a very nice local hotel. We wouldn't leave for our three week trip until later in the week. Before that we would go back to Matthew's place to pick up the packed bags that were waiting for us for our vacation on the Greek Island of Crete.
I checked my messages Saturday morning and discovered that I had been offered a two year post-doc at Tech. It was a generous offer and exceeded what I had been led to believe would be offered. Even though I was confident I would receive at least one other offer, this one seemed nearly ideal. When we arrived at Matthew's apartment I composed a brief message to send back to Tech accepting the offer and informing them when I would return to the states and come in to formalize my position.
Needless to say we enjoyed our stay on Crete. We also visited other places and islands. You could take a large cruise boat from island to island and we visited several. It was interesting and educational.
I drew quite a bit of attention with my bald head, although I was led to believe that a bald woman was not nearly as unexpected in Europe as it is in the States. It was a great wedding trip – you might even consider it a honeymoon trip. I was completely at ease during the entire time. Matthew made having a bald head most enjoyable.
Epilog
“Momma, Momma! Why can't Grace and I have bald heads like you and Nana and Gramma,” Joy said as she burst into my office where I was just putting the finishing touches on a report. Joy and Grace were my twelve and ten year old girls. It was the middle of June and the girls were out of school. Our housekeeper was away for two weeks so my Mom and my Mother-in-law “Mum” had volunteered to visit and look after them for a week or two if needed, so I could concentrate on my report. The girls had enjoyed their two grandmothers for the past week having been pampered and taken out regularly.
For the past four years Joy had been entirely content to have a neat short bob. She had never asked to have her hair long and I had never actually insisted that she keep it short. When she was six (I think) she had asked if she could have a bald head like me, but I had demurred. Grace, on the other hand had been fascinated by my bald head and those of her two grandmothers and had regularly asked why she couldn't have a bald head. I had talked to Matthew about it and we decided to tell them they would have to wait until they were old enough to decide on their own.
Still the issue would surface once in a while. Joy had made it clear that she liked her short bob. She had told the other kids that her Mom was bald, which they didn't believe until I had picked her up after school a few times and had also attended some school functions with her. She had received a certain amount of razzing about her bald Mom, but she was quite positive in telling them that she thought having a bald Mom was very “cool.” A year ago she had brought up the subject by asking if she could shave her head. Once again I explained that she would have to wait until she was older.
Grace wasn't at all shy in saying that she wanted to be bald and that she was going to shave her head as soon as she could. She insisted in keeping her hair cut very short. When she went in for her haircut along with Joy she was always determined to have it cut as short as she could get me to allow it. She now had a “pixie” that was just long enough to not be considered a buzz cut. She had some wispy bangs but the rest was no more than three quarters of an inch. She was always happy to get it cut and pestered me to allow her to get it cut even shorter.
So now I was faced with the problem of what to say to Joy. Something had triggered her barely restrained desire to have a bald head, and that something was probably a Grandmother who had encouraged her. I would just have to find out what they had said to the girls.
“I think we had better go see what Nana and Gramma said to you about being bald,” I said to Joy.
“Nana said that we would look very sweet if we were bald. I really want to be bald. Gramma said that it was the very best way to do your head.
I had the feeling that I was in trouble. I went with Joy back to the recreation room where the four of them had been playing games using the large monitor that they could all see easily.
“It seems that these two have suddenly decided that they want to be bald. I wonder if some bald people I know may have been encouraging them?” I asked a bit on the light-hearted side.
“I think maybe you're being a little too cautious with them Alana,” Mom responded.
“Well, Matthew and I agreed that it would be better if we waited until they were a little older and could decide on their own if they wanted to become bald. Besides, if they want to be truly bald we'd have to take on the job of shaving their heads for them,” I replied laying out the major reason that I was reluctant to allow them to be bald.
“Alana, I'm convinced that they will become bald as soon as they can and that it's only a matter of time before they become permanently bald. It's not just a passing fancy. They're growing up in a family where the women are all bald and completely at ease with it. In fact none of us would ever consider having hair even if we could,” Corinne said making her case.
“I would really like to have a soft smooth head like you Mom. David thinks I would look super good with a shiny bald head,” Joy said very seriously. Her “boyfriend” David would come over regularly and had gone with us to various campus events when we took Joy and Grace.
“OK. I see that I'm outnumbered, even though I'm still in charge of things. We'll discuss it some more when Matthew can be in on the conversation,” I conceded.
That evening we did discuss it at length and arrived at a compromise. The girls could get their hair clipper shaved for the Summer. Either Matthew or I would do the job every Sunday. If they were still determined to stay (almost) bald when school started we would keep them clipper shaved. If they had remained clipper shaved through the end of the school year we would consider doing something more, such as an electric razor shave two or three times a week.
What transpired was that whenever they visited Nana or Gramma or they visited us, the two Grandmothers took it upon themselves to shave the two girls smooth every day. So the girls looked forward to any visit with their Grandparents. They very obviously liked having a smooth bald head.
At the end of the first year, despite some teasing that they had suffered, they were both quite determined to remain bald. So we began using the electric razor to shave them twice a week.
That continued for the summer and most of the following school year until Joy's fourteenth birthday in the middle of May. It was Sunday and there would be a birthday party for Joy in the afternoon. She was up – I could hear water running in the shower so I expected her to appear in ten or fifteen minutes or thereabouts, but it was nearly forty-five minutes before she and Grace finally arrived.
“Look Mom, I shaved my own head. It was easy,” Joy announced proudly as she entered my office.
“Really?” I answered as I turned to see what she had done. Sure enough her head was quite smoothly shaved.
“Sure. I used your old electric shaver and the shaving oil. There's not much left. Can you get some more?”
“Well, this is quite a surprise. Let me take a look. My goodness, you did a good job I have to admit. I'm sure I can get some more oil,” I responded.
“I shaved Grace too. She's really smooth. Can I shave us every day? I want to have a smooth head all the time. We both do.”
I don't see why not. You'll have to get up a little earlier on school days though,” I warned them.
“We know Mama. We talked about it already. When I'm fourteen I'll be able to do myself,” Grace chimed in.
“Mom, we didn't use any of your polish, but we want to keep our heads polished just like you do. Can we do that? Maybe we can have a 'shammy' like yours to polish our heads,” Joy asked enthusiastically.
Matthew arrived at that point and the discussion was renewed. The girls were certainly quite determined to keep their heads shaved. Obviously Joy could do it as well as either Matthew or I so we had no objections except to admonish them that they were not to be late for school as a result of spending too much time doing their heads. That seemed quite normal, after all most parents with a fourteen year old have the same basic issue with their girls spending too much time on their makeup.
I called Mom, who went to the Barbershop/Spa to pick up some shaving oil and head wax to bring to us on her next visit. She wanted to visit for a week right after the end of classes.
So for the next two years Joy and Grace kept their heads carefully shaved and polished. By then, Joy and Grace were fully invested in the idea of being permanently bald. They talked about it openly with their girl friends (and boy friends – they both had “serious” boy friends by then.)
Setting our misgivings aside, Matthew and I bowed to the inevitable. The stage had been set many years earlier when I had my head shaved. The girls had grown up with three confident bald women. They were going to become permanently bald at some point and there was little reason to delay it any further. Their two Grandmothers approved and made it clear that they were delighted at the prospect. So in the middle of June the die was cast and they went with me to a laser clinic for an evaluation. They had inherited dark blond (Grace) and light brown (Joy) hair from Corinne with Joy having a slightly warmer sl\kin tone.
After we got through the initial trial of getting the clinic people to respond to the word “head” we learned that laser treatment would not be very effective for their combination of hair and skin tone.
The faces of both Joy and Grace dropped in disappointment. After that it was a prolonged tug of war trying to get them to go to the alternative approach, but finally they did, describing the alternative of painful waxing in highly colorful language with the intent of discouraging us. The girls were not deterred – in fact they became more determined. We left the clinic and a week later went to another clinic that specialized in waxing. They were taken aback at the request, but recovered and agreed that they could do it. So two weeks later the girls started their body hair removal process with their underarms which they survived with the help of the desensitizing cream. The next step was a total Brazilian for them. They survived that as well.
A week later, having given their hair enough time to grow to a quarter inch long they went in for their first head waxing. We had done an initial application of the desensitizer at home. They did a second application at the clinic and proceeded to wax the heads of my two girls. There were a few tears, but the girls were determined. When it was finally done and their heads had been treated with some hydrocortisone and aloe, they emerged with baby smooth heads and big smiles.
“Mom, it feels so great!” Joy exclaimed.
“I really like the way it looks even if it is a little red,” Grace giggled.
“You both look very nice. It's a great way to do your head,” I told them. Having finally come to terms with the fact that they were becoming permanently bald, I found my approval and enthusiasm growing.
A week later, during the first week of July the two sets of Grandparents arrived for a short visit. Mom and Mum were enthralled with their two beautiful bald granddaughters. I think they had been looking forward to this time for several years. They had a hard time keeping their hands off the girls' heads, something the girls seemed to enjoy and probably encouraged.
Their respective boyfriends were equally enthusiastic.
Six weeks after their first head waxing they returned for their second. It was considerably easier that time and the girls emerged with renewed enthusiasm for their bald heads. Their six week intervals continued until the next July. By then their heads exhibited nothing more than a sparse growth of fine hair after six weeks. The intervals were increased to two months.
At that point I watched my two bald girls begin to mature into confidently bald young women. It was much like watching a movie of my own development, although mine began several years later. Like me they discovered boy friends who admired their bald heads and found them highly erotic. They were, all too soon, off to college. After more than three years they were essentially permanently bald, requiring only a very infrequent waxing to rid them of a tiny growth of fine hairs.
So too their growing independence was made plain when Joy, then in her Junior year, told us that she and her boyfriend David had moved into the same dorm room. Two years earlier the University had announced that all of the on campus housing would be open. It was abundantly clear that Joy was rapidly becoming an independent young woman.
Like her professor Mother she was ambitious and would attend graduate school. Grace was much the same, just a year or so behind.
I was experiencing the cycle of time returning to its beginning again and I welcomed it.
The End

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