ransvestia

"No, I'm swimming every day, and besides, I am just so sick of looking like a proper young lady and oh, but your hair is lovely, you're such a nice young girl, cut the damned stuff off or I'll leave."

"No, I'll do the job if that's what you want, but it's going to be a wholesale butchery."

"Please stop being a sissy and go ahead and do it.!”

There was little else to say. I turned her so that she was facing the mir- ror. Picking up the scissors and a long plait of hair, I quickly chopped off the front portion to the chin.

"Do you want me to save it for a fall?”

"No, just dump it in my lap. I'll put it in a bag and give it to Bob as a present."

With that remark, I dropped a three foot tress of hair in her lap. The rest of the procedure didn't take long. I continued to slice her hair off at the nape of the neck. The severed plaits made a huge chestnut pile in her lap almost covering the front as well as it did before. A few more flicks of the razor and the remaining hair was chaff on the floor. When we got done, she ran her hand through her 1 inch hairdo and asked for a pa- per bag. She then stuffed the yards of beautiful hair into the bag, still as expressionless. I was quite surprised at this, since most women will shed at least a little tear when going to a shorter hair do, as a matter of fact I had deliberately turned her toward the mirror as I cut and here her facial expression was that of a disinterested spectator. Even when her hair was completely chopped on one side and hanging over her breast on the other, the only look was relief that she was rid of the need to be feminine. As she walked out with her bag and raw chopped hair do, I repeated the old statement, "I'll never understand women!"

That was about six years ago, and I'll still never understand women. Last spring, I was leaving Verna's house after visiting when she suddenly took me into her arms and gave me a definitely unfriendly kiss, it was much more like passion. We went back in, needless to say, and although I can't figure out why a woman would want to marry a man with shoul- der length blond hair who looks like a dream in cashmere sweaters, she did. And now my wife and her best girlfriend, me, run that little shop together. A happy ending and a great career for someone who wanted to be a career girl.

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