Female Haircut Novels & Stories

Once again, my ignorance of life’s small details struck me, but it only fueled my desire to catch up and discover more. A hairdresser greeted us, and Serena spoke to her in unfamiliar terms like bangs and highlights. I allowed myself to be seated as the stylist worked on my scalp,washing, drying, perfuming, and cutting my long brown hair. I only specified the final length: shoulder height. Relaxing in the chair, I surrendered my hair to her care.

“The curtain bangs really suit you.” “You think so?” I asked. I peered in a nearby shop window and tousled my hair; I had decided to try a new style, something fresh for the gala. As opposed to my usual wavy locks, which were usually cut to the same length on my mid-back, I trimmed off a few inches so that my hair now fell to a little bit below my shoulders. I had the stylist add some soft layers, too, and some curtain bangs to frame my face. “Oh, it looks perfect on you,” Angela said. “Nathan’s gonna love it, too.”

Muskan looked at the closed door and shrugged smiling. "I guess she is not coming anymore. Come let's go." Nayyab nodded her head and headed outside with Muskan, Hina Autie, Hira, Sabina. __________________ Nayyab got her haircut in steps. She looked more beautiful in this style. Getting facial, manicure pedicure, and then massage, she was so relaxed. "This haircut looks so nice." Musa's mother complimented her. Nayyab smiled and thanked her whereas Hira scoffed.

They finally untied me after shaving my head bald. "Caleb, look at her! She looks like a toad!" Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, pointed at my head and laughed her lungs out while sitting in a wheelchair. His friends stood nearby, cracking up and joining in the mockery. Caleb glanced at me and said lazily, "Julia is allergic to wigs on the market. Your long hair is just perfect for making one." I didn't respond. Clutching the few strands left on my scalp, I felt like my heart had been sliced open.

Lila. The petite hair dresser talked animatedly while she worked, waving her scissors every now and then to emphasize her point. She put a row of foils on the top of my hair, turning it a lighter, less brassy shade, and cut six inches off the length, bringing it up so that it just skimmed my collarbone, and added long layers to give it body and movement. The man, Giorgio, was there for make-up and, I wasn’t terribly surprised to hear, eyebrow waxing. My face was scrubbed and peeled and waxed and finally painted.

Hughes chuckled and said, "You must deliver some pretty intricate haircuts." Carey shook his head, "Actually, I'm pretty old-school. The typical haircut at my shop has the customer in and out of the chair within fifteen to twenty minutes. I don't do shampoos or any of those elaborate styles because I typically have too many other customers waiting for a simple haircut. Beard trimming and razor shaves around the ears and neck are about the only options that I offer customers." Hughes stroked his chin in a melodramatic questioning gesture that had Aphrodite rolling her eyes. He asked, "Then what would motivate a customer such as Mr. Justice to hang around your barber shop for hours?"

The sharp sound of scissors slicing through strands of hair echoed like a melody of liberation inside Haris’s luxurious apartment. Serena stared at her reflection in the large mirror before her. The long black hair that Dewangga once praised—the same hair he would stroke after belittling her—now fell onto the marble floor in rough, uneven pieces. When the final strand dropped, Serena stood still. Her hair now rested at shoulder length, cut into a sharp bob that framed her pale face with a newfound edge of authority. She brushed on light makeup, replacing her soft eyeliner with bold, defined strokes, and finishing with a deep crimson lipstick.

I whisper to myself, not being able to keep the smile off my face. Quickly, I put on a black thong to match the dress, leaving my breasts bare, knowing the dress has cups of its own, and start to work on my hair, straightening, pulling out knots and trimming out excesses. After a few minutes, my hair still falls down to my ass, and it looks really boring and wimpy, so I take a bold step and cut half of it, leaving it just above my shoulders. I trim it till it's straight and sharp, looking really different, but classy. New hair, new identity.

Monalisa POV. I fluffed my hair with my fingers, the curls bouncing over my shoulders as I stepped out of my cab. Today was Saturday and I was returning from the salon after getting a makeover. My stylist, Fiona, was an expert at what she did. She owned a big beauty shop with various sections for women's complete makeover. She'd turned my straight black hair into wavy, long curls, adding some purple and red highlights at the end to make it look like a dark, blooming flame.

I glare at her, clutching my head in my hands to make it clear that I won't let anyone touch my hair. "He looks at me like a wolf," the woman complains. "No gratitude!" "Ava, if you let me trim your hair, it will look thicker and healthier," the hairdresser offers. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll just trim off the split ends.” I finally agree, and they wash and cut my hair. I'm careful not to cut off more than necessary, and the hairdresser clearly takes my side. We limit ourselves to cutting off just a couple of centimeters.