Kiss my shaved head

The night before had been one of the loneliest I’d ever experienced. I sat alone in my tiny apartment, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout meal cooling on the table, scrolling through photos of us—smiling, tangled in each other’s arms, plans for the future whispered between laughs. Now, all that felt like someone else’s story. The breakup wasn’t messy, not really. Just a quiet unraveling, the kind that leaves you wondering why you didn’t see it coming. My heart ached with a dull, persistent throb, and my mind spun with all the ‘ifs’ and ‘whys.’ But by morning, I made a decision. I needed to feel some kind of control, something real, and radical enough to mark the end of all this uncertainty. I decided to shave my head. The idea had been swirling around for days, a wild fantasy that mutated from a whim into a necessity. Cutting off my hair wasn’t just about a new look—it was a severing of the past, a shedding of the woman I was before him. Smooth skin against my fingers, raw and exposed, a blank slate. I chose the little barber shop I’d passed countless times but never entered. The rusty sign read ‘Ramu’s Barber Shop’ in faded letters. It was quiet inside, the scent of aftershave mingling with the hum of a ceiling fan. An older man was trimming a customer’s hair; the clippers buzzed rhythmically. I caught his eye and nodded, the gesture enough to communicate my request. “Full shave?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded. “Take a seat, miss.” As I settled into the worn leather chair, I felt the weight of the moment settle on me. The barber draped a cape over my shoulders with a practiced smile. He lifted the clippers, running them along the sides of my head, the vibrations prickling against my scalp. Then, I saw her. A young woman sitting in the next chair, waiting her turn. She had an edgy vibe—pierced ears, tattoos peeking from beneath her sleeves, and eyes sharp but kind. As the barber finished with me, she caught my gaze and offered a small, encouraging smile. “First time?” she asked, tilting her head. “Yeah. Thought it was time for a change,” I replied, still stroking at the stubble forming on my scalp. Her name was Riya, she said. We slipped into easy conversation while the barber prepared a straight razor. She had a smooth-shaven head herself, radiant in its boldness. I watched as she deftly ran her hand over her scalp, smoothing out the faint stubble like it was a caress. “Shaving your head isn’t just a haircut,” she said softly, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s like an exorcism.” I laughed, a sound catching in my throat. “Exactly why I’m doing this.” When it was my turn for the razor, the barber cleaned off the last bits of hair, carefully dragging the blade over my scalp. The coolness of the metal was sharp against the warmth of my skin, a sensation both alien and exhilarating. And then, I felt it—a gentle touch, a hand over mine. “I can finish it if you want,” Riya whispered. I looked up, surprised by her tenderness. Without waiting for a reply, she took the razor in her hand. Her fingers were steady, and her touch was gentle, almost reverent. She moved with confidence, shaving the last patches of hair smooth. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the mix of vulnerability and intimacy in the gesture. When she finished, she leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear. “You’re beautiful,” she said sincerely. I opened my eyes, searching hers, and saw no pretense, just an honest connection I hadn’t expected to find in a barbershop on a random Tuesday morning. Without thinking, she reached up, fingers trailing over my bare scalp, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Then, softly, she pressed her lips to my smooth head. The kiss was fleeting but charged with meaning—comfort, acceptance, and something tender I hadn’t realized I craved. Emotion welled up in my chest, a sudden rush that caught me off guard. Tears stung my eyes, but this time, they weren’t from heartbreak. They were from relief. Riya smiled gently, the kind of smile that held promises. Before I knew it, our lips met. The world tilted and spun, but in that moment, wrapped in the warmth of a stranger’s embrace, I found a sliver of hope. Her hand traced circles on my scalp, grounding me, reminding me that breaking away from the past didn’t have to mean being alone. When we finally pulled apart, my reflection in the cracked mirror caught my eye—bald, bare, but infinitely brave. “Looks like your new story is just beginning,” Riya whispered. And for the first time in weeks, I believed her.

I love my shaved head

I still remember the day I walked into that barber shop, my heart heavy with the weight of a recent breakup. My name is Seema, and I had just gone through a messy split with my long-term boyfriend. The pain and sadness were suffocating me, and I didn't know how to cope. As I wandered aimlessly, I stumbled upon the barber shop, and on a whim, I decided to step inside. I had a crazy idea - I wanted to shave my head smooth with a razor. It was a drastic measure, but I felt like it was the only way to erase the memories of my past and start anew. As I entered the shop, I was greeted by the friendly barber, who looked at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What can I do for you?" he asked, eyeing my long hair. I took a deep breath and blurted out my request. "I want to shave my head completely." He raised an eyebrow but nodded professionally. "Okay, let's get started." Just as he was about to begin, a young woman with a pixie cut and a bright smile walked into the shop. "Hey, Raj! I'm here for my appointment," she said, nodding at the barber. He smiled back and said, "Riya, you're just in time. This lady wants to shave her head, and I think you might be more... sympathetic to her cause." Riya's eyes met mine, and I felt a spark of connection. "Hey, I'm Riya," she said, extending her hand. I took it, feeling a jolt of electricity as our palms touched. "I'm Seema," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. Riya's eyes locked onto mine, and I felt like she could see right through to my soul. "So, Seema, you're looking to shave your head?" she asked, her voice gentle. I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. Riya nodded understandingly. "I get it. Sometimes, you just need a change, right?" She smiled, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The barber, Raj, stepped aside, and Riya took his place. "Let me do it," she said, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "I've got a steady hand." As Riya began to shave my head, I felt a sense of trepidation. The cold blade glided across my scalp, and my long locks fell away, one by one. Riya worked with precision, her touch gentle but firm. I closed my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me. It was almost therapeutic. As the shaving continued, I felt a sense of liberation. It was like I was shedding not just my hair but my past, my heartache, and my pain. Riya chatted with me, making small talk, and I found myself opening up to her. She was easy to talk to, and I felt a connection that I couldn't quite explain. When the shaving was done, Riya handed me a mirror. I hesitated for a moment before looking at my reflection. My scalp was smooth, bald, and vulnerable. I felt a pang of emotion as I gazed at my new self. Riya smiled, and I saw a glimmer of something more than friendship in her eyes. "You're beautiful, Seema," she said, her voice low and husky. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as she reached out and touched my smooth head. Her fingers grazed my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. I looked up at her, and our eyes met in a charged moment. Without warning, Riya leaned in and kissed me. Her lips brushed against my smooth scalp, and I felt a rush of emotion. It was a tender, gentle kiss, but it sent shockwaves through my entire being. I was taken aback, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I found myself responding, my lips parting as I kissed her back. As we kissed, Riya's hand continued to caress my scalp, her fingers tracing the curves of my head. It was a sensual, intimate moment, and I felt myself getting lost in the sensation. I was emotional, my heart still raw from the breakup, but with Riya, I felt a connection that I couldn't ignore. As we broke apart, gasping for air, I looked into Riya's eyes. They sparkled with a mix of attraction and affection. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... but I couldn't help it." I smiled, feeling a sense of wonder. "It's okay," I replied, my voice equally soft. "I didn't mind." We stood there for a moment, the tension between us palpable. Then, Riya took my hand, and we walked out of the barber shop together, into a bright, uncertain future. I had come to shave my head, but I ended up finding something much more valuable - a connection, a spark, and a sense of possibility. As we walked, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected moments can lead to the most profound connections. I had walked into that barber shop a broken, heartbroken person, but I walked out with a newfound sense of hope, and a kiss that lingered on my smooth, shaved head.