Long’s Barber & Beauty Shop

My uncle used to own Long’s barbershop. I practically grew up there, but never once sat in the barber’s chair. He would never cut a woman’s hair.
I came into the shop looking for someone to shave off my locs, because I have alopecia and it’s eventually all going to fall out anyway. I was sick of obsessing about it but still not really believing it. I stood around for a while until I worked up the nerve to ask Devin if he could cut my hair. I guess he could tell I was about to start crying, so he asked if I wanted to step outside to talk. I showed him the situation under my version of a «comb over» and he laid out some options. He even offered to come in on a Sunday morning so that I could have my hair cut in private. I told him I’d think about it and call him in a couple of weeks. Then I went a few doors down and spent a small fortune in a wig shop. I think that was a Friday night. The next day I called to ask if he had any open spots THAT DAY.
Devin probably spent a good hour cutting my hair — first with scissors (in case I wanted to keep my hair). Every few minutes he let me look at the progress and help decide how far to take it. At first I thought I’d do a little afro — one with a hole in the top like Bozo the clown — but we decided it would be less obvious if he cut it close and I could see how (and if) it would grow back. He framed my face with a nice, feminine shape.
While I was pleased to learn that my head is nice and round, it was a sickly yellow color (like a jaundiced baby) so my hubby took me for a walk on the beach that Sunday to brown it. That was pure hell, so for work on Monday I slapped on one of my crazy wigs. That lasted exactly 1.5 days. The thing about alopecia is, when it’s active, it burns and itches like crazy. Most days I can’t stand to have anything touching my head. That, and I just don’t like fake stuff… nails, makeup, jewelry, wigs… no can do. What a fun and confusing time for my coworkers: «I love your hair!» «Oh, your hair’s different today! How did you???» «Nice beanie.» «Um…are you okay?»
Yes, I am okay. Not dying. Not today. I lost my f*ing hair. I got off pretty easy. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about wigs or explaining myself anymore, because I have a cute haircut I can live with. If you’re shorter than me (unlikely) and not standing directly behind me, you probably can’t tell anything’s wrong up top. So what if you can. I am so glad I went back to Long’s and found Devin. He is the best — a talented professional, and a real gentleman.

Will, hooks up a fresh cut!