Cosmectomy

My wife doesn't care for me as a bald man anymore. I was bald when we started dating and when we got married, but when my hair grew back in and she realized it wasn't falling out or thinning, she was pleasantly surprised. She has since told me she prefers it longer and has continually instructed me to grow it out.

As if my wife wasn't cool enough, on my birthday last year she bought me a gift certificate for a haircut at Bikini Cuts as a reward for growing my hair out as she'd requested. In case you didn't know, Bikini Cuts is the establishment that requires their all-female staff to be dressed in a bikini while cutting your hair. Awesome! Even though I can't help but wonder how the girls can handle being itchy all day long in places where customer hair shouldn't normally end up.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who would never think to patronize a business such as this, but at the same time can't help being curious about what actually goes on during these so-called "haircuts". Well, that's why I'm here. To tell you about my experience so you don't have to experience it yourself... unless you want to.

First of all, the place wasn't busy at all. That was a good thing. The last thing I wanted to do is run into someone I know at a place like that. Also... the girls weren't very cute. When I was on my mission in England, I used to LOVE getting my haircut. It was the one time that I could have a cute girl run her fingers through my hair and not be breaking any mission rules. But the girls at Bikini Cuts weren't attractive. I wouldn't go so far as to call them RMC's or anything, but they were pretty far from hot.

I've never cared much for the forced small talk that happens during haircuts. I just want to sit there quietly and get serviced (no pun intended). I don't want to answer questions about what I do for a living or what I did over the weekend. It was worse at Bikini Cuts. It's like they assumed I wanted them to flirt with me. I mean... why else would I be paying extra to have a half naked girl cut my hair, right? So I did my best to be nice and flirt a little with the uglies while they pampered me.

"Pampered?" you might be asking. Well... kinda. The cuter of the two (who also happened to be the one who looked a little more "used" if you know what I mean) gave me a hand massage. Yup. A hand massage. I wasn't expecting it, either, which made it a little extra awkward.

The uglier one was shampooing my hair before the cut (by the way... I wish they saved the wash for AFTER the cut. I can't stand having hair all over me) and the other one was just hovering around my torso like a hardened, tattooed, bumble bee. She told me to close my eyes and relax which I was trying to do already. Then I felt something warm and wet fully engulf my left hand. I pulled away instinctively cause I'm married, you know. Then they started laughing as she yanked my hand back and re-wrapped it in the hot towel.

After I realized what she was doing I was able to relax a little more and the hand massage actually felt pretty good. By the time she got to my right hand, though, she was telling her uglier co-worker (who was washing my hair) about how she was still hung over from the night before. I started getting a little grossed out as I wondered if she'd washed her hands since her playful romp with several guys the night before. The hand massage became a lot less enjoyable.

The haircut itself was mediocre at best. I'd much rather have my wife cut my hair while wearing a bikini. At least then we could both rinse the hair off our bodies together... and I wouldn't have to worry about where her hands had been.