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This is a follow up to a series of posts on one of the forums, concerning my own recent experiences.

Some of you will know the story from the forums, but this is the full snip-by-snip description of the two haircuts as described, with background, feelings, the works, and its for those who like the detail - I'm really trying to get all the feelings involved across, especially as it racks up with the second haircut (which damn near killed me!) It stops where the forum postings stop,  should I finally manage to take the plunge, I'll add a third; for the moment its an open ended story... 

Although not a story as such, this is my first attempt at actually writing for an audience; all feedback would be most appreciated, good or bad. Please remember though that this is an intensely personal experience, and I would like it to stay within the confines of this site. In other words, please don't copy it! 

Oh, and there's no shaving, so if that's your baby I'm afraid it'll disappoint.. 

Day One - Entering the Zone 

God, I really needed to buy some scissors... My hair has always been long, but it was well past the point where it looks its best and it desperately needed cutting, but I kept forgetting to buy the necessary implement - my old pair were hopelessly blunt, and blunt scissors are no fun apart from anything else. 

So, why not just go see a hairdresser? Because I hate them, thats why. A couple of awful experiences as a child coupled with a fight against my "sensible short hair" Mother, to keep my hair long as all the other little girls had in the mid seventies, had left me with an intense phobia coupled with an intense fascination. I hadn't let a hairdresser touch it since being about eight; in fact apart from a couple of forced hackings at the hands of aforesaid mother, no-one had ever so much as trimmed it apart from me. Its a slightly odd colour, light brown really but with natural red highlights, and as well as lightening overall in the summer gets noticeable blond streaks, and its in great condition because its never been coloured or permed  It hasn't even had the abuse meted out by hairdryers or any other implement, because I usually just leave it to dry naturally - you can get away with it when its long, gravity tends to help out! I'm in my late thirties and young looking anyway (lucky genes, certainly not anything I can take credit for), so apart from the odd few grey hairs aren't yet a problem. 

For a long time I barely cut it at all, during my twenties it reached down to my waist, but as I've got better at cutting it, and less paranoid about it, I've come to the conclusion that it looks best just a few inches past my shoulders. I vary between layers and blunt cut, and another of the reasons it had got so long was that I was growing out the last layered cut and trying to grow out a fringe, which is a nightmare. No cutting meant no temptation to go too far, although I'd learned over the years to be restrained;it was a while since I'd last gone crazy. That had been a salutary experience, a half hour's fun resulted in a just-below-shoulder-length blunt cut bob with a fringe on my eyebrows, and I wasn't a fan. Still, at least when its long, you can do all sorts of things if you don't like it loose; any number of plaits and ponytails and updos. To be quite honest, the last few times I've trimmed it hasnt been anything to write home about, so I was rather hoping the fascination had abated, at least as far as mangling my own hair. 

When you cut it yourself you are limited as to styles, but I've got reasonably good at either a straightforward all one length (section in ponytails at the back and chop) or long layers (pull over forehead or put in topknot and chop). Despite all the mystique - and the cost - of salons, it's not rocket science, unless you want something very sharp or structured. The key things are doing it wet if you want a good line, and using sharp scissors; the kitchen scissors are a really bad idea. Not being utterly fascinated with cutting hair is probably also a good idea, but we'll come to that... 

I must admit though, I was looking forward to chopping a good few inches off - always more fun than a trim - and also to seeing it back at its best length without the layers. There's also that lovely feeling when you brush it after its been noticeably cut, where the brush stops before you're expecting it. Blunt cutting is my favourite as well; you essentially section it and make a series of ponytails up the back of the head-the bottom one you cut to the desired length, then carefully use that as a guide for the others. I know any reading hairdressers will be squirming, but it works for me; you can't use the resulting line as a spirit level, but its not bad. Layers are more dramatic because the bulk of it is cut all in one go which is great fun but over very quickly. 

Anyway, I finally remembered to buy some decent scissors, dug out all the clips and bands necessary, and gave it its last wash as what I consider truly long hair for a while and combed it through for ages - it wouldn't be this long again for a while, if ever. I didn't think about it at the time, but I've since measured it; at that point it was about twenty two inches from the top to the longest point in front; maybe a couple of inches longer at the back. The shortest layers were to pretty much be my guideline for the new cut, they were about five inches past my shoulders; the longest reached to the base of my breasts, so it looked like a good six to eight inches to go overall; meanwhile my fringe had grown out past my chin and I planned to just trim off any split ends and then leave it to catch up with the rest eventually. It was well past due a cut, the combination of layers and length meant it looked stringy and thin at the ends, and I was very fed up with it. 

I've found in the past that, in order to avoid going crazy, I need a plan; a definite path to follow with a definite envisaged result at the end. Chopping away at it just to do something different had usually resulted in me wishing I'd never started, but since I had been following my restrained path it wasnt as much fun but I infinitely preferred the results, and I was sure this was the reason I hadn't gone mad the last few times I'd trimmed it. So, following a thorough wash and dousing in conditioner and a final comb through I started by sectioning out the fringe and trimming the planned half inch, which bought it to chin level. So far, so good, so unexciting. The main event was next though, and the part I love the most about a blunt cut, the very lowest section that sets the length for the whole cut. I parted ear to ear, piled the rest up on top of my head and combed the back section into a ponytail which I banded. Having fought the momentary impulse to just chop it at the nape (always a dodgy moment; I thought at the time "One day I'm not going to resist it...") I pulled the band down about four inches from the bottom - being restrained, you can always take more off, but not put it back - and prepared for the first cut. 

Well, if you're into it all, that's where the fun starts. That amazingly crisp noise that only the sharpest scissors and the softest hair make together, a tiny crunching that sounds so meek yet can wreak utter devastation. The pattering sound as the cut ends free their mooring, and that incredibly final sounding little snip at the end of the cut. The band pretty much falls out, and the freshly cut hair falls back to rest at its new length. Nothing beats it (well, a gorgeous bloke who I trusted doing it would, but you have to make do)... Only problem was, its new length wasn't anything like I'd envisaged; it didn't look considerably shorter, even though four inches seemed quite a lot, and certainly looked quite a lot on the table in front of me. I'd anticipated that I'd want to cut at least six, maybe eight inches, and I thought four would have a far greater impact. Anyway, recomb, reband couple of inches further up and cut number two, which was equally disappointing. The third combing and banding should have been the final two inches of my anticipated eight, but it was at this point I entered the zone, and threw the careful plan out of the window... 

I may have been disappointed as the way it was looking, but was getting well into the process. Theoretically, there shouldn't have been another cut at this stage, but I rebanded it, pulled the band down the length without even looking and cut straight through; this time on the scalp side of the scissors so that band came off with the cut  hair, leaving whatever was left attached to my head in my fist. I released it, heart absolutely in mouth - I had no real idea of how much I'd actually just cut, but I knew it was going to be dramatically shorter than originally envisaged (can there be a more insane way to cut your hair?) It came to rest just below  my shoulders, perhaps four to five inches long from the nape of my neck which was very satisfying right at that moment, but if I continued my blunt cut plan was going to give me the same bob I'd disliked before, only I reckoned slightly shorter when it had dried. Still, too late now, and anyway I was enjoying myself far too much to stop - although once you've cut the base line you can't really change your mind. I pulled down the next section and measured it up to the same length; snipping through this time and watching it fall was much better, at least ten to twelve inches all in one go, and this time a massive difference as it fell back against my neck and shoulders. I only had the very top left to do now, and as I released it down to cut it was obvious that this overall cut was considerably shorter than the shortest layers I had been growing out. Of course, because of the old layers this section had the least length, but as I held it up to cut the snipped hairs rained forward over my face; and it looked like an incredible amount was coming off. Finally the band had nothing left to hold onto, and the top layer fell back. The feeling as it settled at the new length was incredible; despite knowing it was much shorter its this top layer that tells you in no uncertain terms you've just chopped a lot of hair off - and nearly twelve inches is quite a substantial haircut. So, I had blunt cut hair again - much shorter than anticipated, when I looked down I could not believe how big the pile of shorn hair was, nor the length of some of the strands - some of them seemed longer than those still on my head! And I was having difficulty with how short that was...its always absolutely staggering when you first look, its almost as if you expect it to be tucked behind your shoulders and if you move your head it will fall forward and flow down as it did before. And brushing it through, now it was all much shorter, was intense -  the brush just ran out of hair long before I was used to that happening, and with the hair falling back against my neck and bouncing there, as opposed to flowing gently onwards gave me the most peculiar combination of fascination and fear, as it sank in exactly how much I had cut off. 

It was pretty much dry by now, and according to the plan, I was finished...but I'd disposed of the plan, and anyway if I'd stuck to it that would have meant stopping, and I was far too into it to do that. The only choices available therefore were to either start again and cut it even shorter, or cut in some layers; the fact I'd spent a year growing the last lot out wasn't relevant at this point; layers it was going to be. The easiest way is to pull it all forward into a ponytail at the front and chop through it, so thats what happened. Obviously, the back was nowhere near long enough to pull over my head now, but there was still a big enough ponytail to cut through to make it worthwhile, with the added bonus I could see it in front of me. This part is great, I just tightened the band at the front of my head and cut a straight line beneath a certain point, which I'd measured so the fringe would be level with my eyebrows (so much for the careful half inch earlier). Obviously, some of it was quite long, and it would be a shame to do it all in one go, so I just chopped randomly at it until it was near the final line, where I cut it straight. The frightening thing is when you release it; have you judged it right? Are you going to end up with a fringe halfway up your forehead? Its hard to believe whilst you're doing it that you aren't reducing the overall length even more so it's another absolute heart stopper of a moment. I held my breath, released it, let it fall and find its final place, and had a look for the first time. 

Well, it certainly wasn't what I'd planned. Essentially, a shaggy cut sitting at the top of my shoulders, with an eyebrow length fringe and some of the layers only about three inches long. Not quite the all one length well-below-shoulder blunt cut, which was the plan. I reluctantly decided I had to stop (you really could go on forever if you're not careful) so, having checked the back and snipped any uneven bits, and evened the layers on each side, I forced myself to leave it. Or so I thought... 

Day Two - much shorter than ever before... 

Well, usually that's the end - I spend the next few days being astonished when I look in the mirror, but once I've actually managed to put the scissors down that's it, until the next time. I've only cut that amount off in one go a couple of times before, usually the shock of the change wipes out any other feelings, but this time, for some reason, I felt really unsatisfied . Okay, it wasn't what I wanted originally, but it looked alright so it certainly wasn't as if I was unhappy with it and fiddling in order to improve it, and I'd certainly cut quite a substantial amount off, so it wasn't as if I felt robbed of the excitement. It was a style I'd had before at a length I'd had before, so I really couldn't understand why I was so dissatisfied with it; not so much the haircut itself, but I certainly wasn't getting the major butterflies I usually get after a serious cut. Despite having enjoyed it so much at the time, it didn't last, whereas usually I'll stay on the post-haircut high for a good few days. 

The beginnings of the answer came to me a couple of days later, when I'd washed it for the first time after cutting it. Again, its something I enjoy the first time after a mjaor cut; when you first wash it you feel how much less there is, and when I gathered it into a ponytail to wring it out I was astonished at how short that ponytail was. It had been over eighteen inches long; now it was somewhere between four and six, and felt much less substantial because of course the shortest layers didn't reach the ponytail at all.

I combed it out and left it to dry naturally as usual. At first I took no notice of the fringe drying more quickly, after all it was the shortest part, but after a little while I noticed all the top layers had dried and were falling forward brushing my face. This was an entirely new experience; I'd not had such short layers before, and because of the way I'd cut them from the front, most of the front and sides were involved. 

I pulled the rest back just into a rough ponytail, and was amazed to find that the layers created the impression of a soft cut, lip length bob, that formed an almost perfect cap shape around my head. Of course, like any long haired girl I'd imagined it short and done any number of tricks to give the impression, but this was the first time ever I could actually see what it would look like if it were cut short - something I'd never, ever do, but fun to play around with for a while. I pulled the rest back properly and clipped it up as close to my head as possible, and then had a very enjoyable time playing with the front section; different partings, in front of the ears, behind the ears, whatever came to mind - I was actually surprised how versatile it was at that length; ponytails or updos weren't an option, but this was easily made up by the number of different looks you could achieve when it was loose. The most intriguing thing was running my fingers or a brush through it - it just wasn't there! The difference in length between this front section and the back was nothing like as dramatic as the differences in the two lengths before the cut, yet it felt massively different. It also felt really strange to lift the side sections and see my ears with nothing behind them where a backdrop of hair had always lain; again a completely different experience from them being exposed in a pony tail, where you can tell by the lie of the hair that its tied back. 

Eventually though the back had dried completely, and was sticking out of its confining clips and spoiling the illusion, so I released it thinking that was the end of an amusing interlude. It was as the back fell into place that I realised why I was so dissatisfied; why the haircut high hadn't lasted. I hadn't essentially done anything different, I may have chopped a lot off; it may be slightly shorter than ever before, but essentially its the same one of two haircuts I've ever had. Is there that much difference between a cut that sits at the top of the shoulders and one that sits a few inches below? How exciting can it be to just do the same thing over and over - no wonder the high wasn't lasting. I'd never had a haircut which even cleared the top of my shoulders, so how could I expect it to stay interesting, even with my fascination for it? I've never even coloured it, although that's not cowardice, its due to very sensitive skin not liking chemicals, but even so...I was bored of it; although I'd enjoyed the cutting experience immensely, the end result hadn't kept my interest because it just wasn't interesting. Playing with it this morning had been the most fun I'd had for ages; it was actually a markedly different experience, a completely alternate set of looks and feelings. I must admit, at that point, even though the ponytail at the back was a mere shadow of its former glorious self, I nearly chopped it totally then and there, even to the extent of actually picking up the scissors, knowing if I thought about it I'd bottle out.  This was where my brain intervened, just in time  - if I cut the ponytail off, somehow I was going to have to find a way of sorting the back out - there's no way I could do that myself without being a contortionist and however exciting and compelling something is, my fear of going in any form of hairdressing establishment overrode everything; I'd rather drink bleach whilst sitting in a bucket of sulphur. Funnily enough, the idea of actually cutting it short wasn't what was bothering me, whereas usually I'd come out in hives at the very thought; it was all the other issues (I have millions!) involved around the whole haircutting scene that was what stopped me. 

So, that wasn't an option for now, but needed filing away for future consideration. However, just cutting another inch or so off the main length would be something never done before; it would sit above the top of my shoulders. I know that doesn't sound a great deal more, but there is a considerable difference between being able to tuck it behind your shoulders or not; when pushed behind there's no telling if it falls an inch or three feet, and by cutting it clear above my shoulders I wouldn't be able to escape the fact I had dramatically shorter hair than a couple of days previously. 

The main problem was how to do it - there was no question now of not doing so. Because of the layers, if I sectioned along the top of my ears, everything above was layered shorter than this anyhow, so I could probably do it in one cut. Initially, I wanted to cut it dry as well; I'd been amazed at how wavy it was without the weight to pull it down, and I would lose the sense of where it now sat if it were wet. If the worst came to the worst, and I had to get someone to straighten it, I had a friend who'd done a basic hairdressing course, and if I was desperate - really, really desperate - I could always ask her to snip any really uneven bits. Because it was already so short, there was no way I could see what I was doing, I'd have to put the ponytail band in and position it by feel, and then cut keeping the blade in contact with my finger on the band. 

After a couple of false starts, I got the band in and positioned at what I thought was probably three quarters of an inch away from the ends; in order to get even a remotely straight line I'd need to cut right along the top of the band, and the only way to do this was to hold it with my other hand and use my fingers as guides, so I tried to allow for this. And then, finally, picked up the scissors... 

It was the most intense, arousing, insane thing I've ever done. Knowing that I have always been terrified of being given a short haircut, here was I cutting it shorter that I would have dreamed possible. At first, I just started gnawing away with the scissors, and because I was holding the ponytail up it meant I was cutting nearer to my ear then ever before - I could almost hear the separate strands giving way. Time slowed down, all  I could hear was this relentless, deadly little noise that seemed to go on forever before anything happened - so much so that I started to wonder if I had somehow doubled the ponytail over and was cutting not only through the end but backing up on it and then going through the middle as well - I actually stopped to check, convinced that I'd find I was cutting through much higher than planned, and that when the ponytail finally parted company with my head it would be at ear level! Eventually, in the time I would have thought I could have chopped the whole thing, the tiniest of strands finally released and flowed down past my hand. My nerves were at fever pitch, I could feel the newly cut ends brush across my hand and then, an age later finally fall forward into my neck. I stopped mid-cut and just stared at where it had landed; it was a good two and a half inches shorter than before if not more - this wasn't going to just be clear of my shoulders, it would barely graze the bottom of my neck. It was only about five inches long on the nape maximum before I started, where was it going to end up? Two to three inches is nothing when you have over twenty to start, but when it's half the remaining length? I was frozen for a minute, my heart was racing, I was hot and cold and shaking like a leaf. What the hell was I doing, cutting it so short? I could stop at this point, the severed strand was near the front and could easily be blended in, but as I  sighed in relief and deciided that's what I'd do, my cutting hand started up again, as if all control was beyond me. I was effectively cutting all my hair off way shorter than ever before, and seemed to have no conscious say in the situation at all. 

I did manage to pull myself together enough to realise if I continued cutting it in one bunch, there was no way I could hold a line, and it would be ragged beyond belief, meaning ultimately I'd lose more of what little length remained, and I was already terrified at how short it was going to be. I stopped, and inserted the scissors again carefully just above the band, collecting a small tress between the blades and snipping it free which added another element to the sensory mix, each fatal little snip sounding horrifically loud and final, was followed by the broken tress trailing across my fingers; I could actually hear the softest brushing noise as they came to rest on my neck. It suddenly hit me, that for the first time ever I wouldnt be able to say I had long blonde hair, the colour may be the same but there is no way hair that sits on the base of the neck is considered long; by some standards its not even mid-length. This made me pause and gasp, was I actually going to classify as having short hair? This was only a fraction longer than my friend's and she definitely classed hers as short. What in the name of sanity was I doing; I'd always always considered myself as having long hair, always thought I would have long hair, but this was very definitely not the case any more. Getting through that ponytail took forever, each snip sounded like a gunshot, and as the broken strands fell forward into my face it almost seemed they were distressed at what was being done to them. I know that sounds fanciful, but its very difficult to get over just how intense, strange, distressing, exhilerating, arousing, frightening this haircut was, these last couple of inches seemed to rack my senses to insane levels, absolutely everything was at fever pitch, which was crazy seeing as I'd felt nothing like this when cutting off about a foot of hair a couple of days ago! I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, come, scream or all of them at once. I was only wearing one of those little silky strappy tops; breasts which had been fully cloaked in hair a couple of days ago were covered in goosebumps and seemed to be trying to burst out of it, and every little shorn tendril that somehow fell down my front was tracing a path of fire; as one sad little tuft escaped and brushed past my nipple, I couldn't have felt it more if someone had pinched me. Its probably a good job I didn't have the aforementioned gorgeous bloke anywhere near me; he'd have been raped! 

Finally, finally with the loudest snip this poor pathetic little stub was released into my hand, still in its band, and through the general extrasensory fog I was relieved to see it was fairly even, although god knows how - to be honest, I wouldn't have noticed if someone had clippered a path up the back of my head by this stage - in fact I'd probably have welcomed it, on the basis that once the clippers come out its all over bar the shouting - at least it would have been some sort of release. I'd always thought it was fiction that people would take it so far, but I know now its all too plausible. I'd long ceased looking in the mirror, I had quite enough to deal with what with sound and feel, so when I eventually did look up I nearly fainted in shock. The "extra" inch to bring it up to sit on my shoulders left it just - just -  grazing near the bottom of my neck, my shoulders sloped down to a good inch and a half lower. I know that sounds a tiny amount, but believe me in this context it was a mile. I was almost in a trance as I released the top hair from its clip, I had absolutely no idea what this was going to look like, I just knew this was not long hair any more. I was terrified that the longest layers would be too long now, and I really could not take any more - if I had to do any more cutting, the whole lot was going to end up getting cropped within an inch of my head, my self control was almost spent; but fortunately (or not, depending on how you look at it) the layers dropped into place at about the same level as the new base line.  It was incomprehensible, two days ago it had been a smooth, straight shining fall to below my breasts, now it couldn't even stretch to my shoulders? And it bounced; danced into my neck and swung out again, where before it was disciplined and fell straight downwards, even if I'd slept on it wet, now it was developing great loose waves, almost curls at the - very truncated -ends, which were making it look even shorter. 

I thought I couldn't be any more shocked, I was moving on autopilot by now, so I did what I've always done after a haircut; swept it up to see what it looked like in a ponytail. Well, it swept straight back out of my hands, for the first time ever I wouldn't be able to have a high, or even mid height, ponytail - I suppose I could, but half of it didn't reach. A bun or a french braid would be totally out of the question, no chance. I could put most of it in a ponytail at the base of my neck, just about, but its a pathetic little two inch stub virtually hidden by a scrunchie. Brushing it out was the next huge shock, again that final two to three inch cut made an enormous difference, I was brushing at thin air. 

Yet, despite all this, despite the loss of my ponytail (and that does really grieve me, apart from anything else its always been a way to get away from feeling I've cut it too short in the past, but I have no such safety net now), despite the fact I can no longer say I have long blonde hair, I feel strangely exhilerated and freed from a bind, somehow. I have always been terrified of short hair, terrified something would happen that would force me to have it all cut off. Of course, I still have a great fear of salons, I don't think that will ever abate, but I am so intrigued by the thought of taking it all the way that I am trying very hard to get over my fear of letting someone else loose on it. As I said, I have a friend with hairdressing knowledge who knows me well enough to know about my various hangups, she knows which parts of my head are very sensitive from old surgery scars and lumps and bumps and all the rest of the baggage, and I am trying to pluck up the courage to let her loose on it and cut it into the soft bob shape that so intrigued me, complete with the nape tapered right down really short, just so for once I can say I've done it. At the end of the day, its only another two or three inches, but like the two or three inches around the shoulders, it makes a huge difference. How would I feel without the curtain of hair behind my ears that's still there - just about. Whether or not the fear of letting someone else loose on it overules the desire to have it cut really short is the key factor. So, an ongoing story.... maybe

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