Finally. I am bald now - Headshave 2025

“You can do it!,” I whispered to myself, trying to steady my breathing. “You have come this far, don’t chicken out now!” It was Sunday morning, and I was frozen stiff outside a bustling barbershop. I’d driven past this place for an hour, hoping it would empty out, but the seats were full. I finally parked across the street and stood there, staring at the door, for thirty minutes. Now I was right outside, paralyzed. Just as I was about to tuck tail and run, a young man opened the door for me. There was no turning back. I smiled and thanked him, forcing myself inside. This was my first time in a barbershop. Everything smelled of shaving cream and disinfectant. The air buzzed with the low hum of clippers working their magic on the men seated in the chairs. This was definitely not one of those fancy women’s salons. There was only one female barber working, a tall, attractive woman with short, practical hair. She was the one who would do it. I sat down, waiting my turn, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Today was the day. At 34, I was finally going to take the plunge and have my head shaved completely bald. My beautiful, long hair was just too much hassle, too much maintenance. It was time to shed the crown and reveal the true me. I didn't know how long I’d stay bald, but I had to try it just once. “Please come,” the lady barber smiled, motioning me over. The chair was massive, nothing like the delicate chairs in a salon. It felt solid and comforting. “What can I do for you?” she asked, a professional smile set on her face. I swallowed hard. I started to explain, then realized everyone in the shop had gone quiet and was staring. “It’s now or never,” I thought. “I want you to shave my head,” I stated clearly. “I want it completely bald.” A look of surprise flashed across her face, and she gently asked if I was sure. I smiled and explained that this was something I had wanted for years but only just found the courage to attempt. After a brief conversation, she agreed. She turned the chair toward the window, slipped the protective cape around my shoulders, and fastened it tight at my neck. I took a deep breath. The previously noisy barbershop was eerily silent now. Pop! The sharp sound startled me, followed by the steady, loud humming of the powerful clippers. The sound got closer just as I felt her hand push my head down slightly. The clippers pressed against the nape of my neck and started their ascent. The vibration was intense. It felt like they ripped through my long hair at lightning speed. Within seconds, a cool breeze washed over the back half of my skull. The weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying was gone. The clippers moved up and over the crown, creating a startling sound as they chewed through the thickest part of my hair. Strands began tumbling onto my lap under the cape, signaling the point of absolutely no return. Just minutes later, the first stage was done. I could feel the prickly stubble across my entire head, but I knew the real event was just beginning. She tilted my head back. Then came the warmth. A thick, luxurious coating of shaving foam was spread over my scalp, massaging it deep into the short remaining hairs. I couldn't see anything, facing the window as I was, but I savored the anticipation. This was the moment I would achieve the smooth, bald look. I felt the cool steel of the straight razor settle against my forehead. With deliberate precision, she began the shave. Glide. Scrape. There was a strange, thrilling chill that rushed through my body every time that blade ran across my head, meeting absolutely no resistance. She was running the straight razor slowly and carefully, removing the last remnants of stubble and making the skin perfectly bare. She worked on the top of my head first, clearing the foam and the hair totally away. Then she pushed my head forward slightly, angling the razor so she could meticulously shave the back and the delicate areas around my ears. It was an incredibly intimate process—the feeling of the blade making my scalp absolutely, flawlessly smooth. Soon, the grating sound stopped. She wiped my head clean with a warm, white towel. My scalp felt exposed, tight, and wonderfully fresh. Finally, she spread a warm, fragrant oil over my freshly shaved scalp, massaging it gently. It felt intensely soothing. I pulled my hands out from under the cape and reached up. I touched my scalp for the first time. Where my fingers used to meet a thick halo of hair, there was nothing but skin. No stubble, no fuzz—just a perfect, velvet smoothness. It felt incredible, like touching the cleanest surface imaginable. I was bald. I was smooth. I was free.