Emotions at Supercuts

I had my hair cut today. I walked out of my cubicle and walked down the road to the nearby Supercuts. I was secretly thinking (hoping) that they might have already closed. I was feeling like I was walking on the boulevard of long hair that I came to know for the last two years to reach to the boulevard of short hair . In that 5 minute walk to the intersection to the short hair boulevard, I decided going back to my cubicle for at least 10 times. My legs carried me on my path regardless. I was seriously thinking that Supercuts would be closed. I paused for about 10 seconds when I saw the lights and then the people inside. I knew that stepping inside that door would mean a short cut to my long curly hair.

I had always been a regular at the barber’s chair since I can remember. I could not resist when my hair started growing longer than my threshold. Until college, I had always gone to the same barbershop. I remember the days when the barber used to put a wooden piece that was lying between the arms of the chair and have me sit on that so that I would be at a level suitable for a haircut. I never had to describe what style I wanted. I was like a regular in a bar who would just ask for “the regular”. Although this shows how little I changed my looks throughout years, it was really a comfort not to worry about my hair during and after the cut. I guess you can say how big of a challenge it had been for me to go to college to another town and had to find another barbershop that I could be a regular. I didn’t look for quite some time. I had my haircut when I traveled home to see my family, which was definitely more frequent than students here usually do. I finally found a place to be comfortable at after a couple of years. It was another challenge when I came to the United States. It was not only about finding a barber who I could trust but also getting used to that electric machine that simply runs over my head without caring about any details of my hair style. Oh, not to mention the vacuum that ran over my head to collect the remaining hair.The barbershop was more like a manufacturing line which has a production time of about 7-8 minutes.

You may be asking at this point: “What in hell happened that make this guy let his hair grow?” Simple, I got married and my wife loved to see my hair grow. During our four years together in college she had never seen me with long hair and she had fallen in love with my “short-haired-version”. I was also amazed to see that it grew to be curly just like in my childhood. So, I let it grow and grow and grow. I had it cropped here and there for couple of times, but never shortened for almost two years. It may not be a big deal for a lot of people but it was for me. I would have never seen myself like that if it weren’t for Hande.

All these thoughts were running around in my mind when I stepped into the shop, had my name written to the waiting lists (there was only one person I had to wait), and sat down to wait. When I was waiting for my turn, I was more like a 5 year-old waiting to sit on a dentist’s chair than a 27 year-old waiting for just a good-old haircut. When I finally sat down on the chair, I was now like a 5 year-old who could not say how he wanted his hair cut. When I finally got the description out of the way, I was one more step closer to a shorter hair. It was a strange feeling to see all that hair being cut by just a couple of scissor movements and it was strange to feel that there was no turning back. Not being able to see well without my glasses might have made it a bit easier, or not since I was getting curious. I had to stop the process several times to put on my glasses to see how it was going and to prevent a disaster relative shortness to my hair. Well, it was all over finally. The lady (first time I had my hair cut by a lady) did a fine job and I was happy with the result. I looked different but I felt lighter.

Now that I had my hair cut, I was excited to see Hande’s reaction. She knew I had this in mind but she didn’t know when I would actually go ahead with it, or even if I would actually go ahead with it. Somewhere in the middle of this post, we saw each other and she was positively surprised. She loved me with short haired, she loved me with long hair. Once again, I was looking like the guy with whom she had fallen in love with.