Poetry: "A Haircut"

I wrote this poem at the beginning of this year, inspired by the trip I made to get my hair cut in late December—the first such trip I'd made in quite a while. Enjoy!

The last Saturday of the year.
No better time to embrace the inevitable.

Inside the salon it's clean and quiet.
Only the radio breaks the silence.
All it ever plays is classic rock.

Fifteen minutes take their time to pass.
At last I'm sitting in the chair.
I say, "I want it up to the shoulder."

The woman with the scissors holds my hair.
"I'll be taking off about a foot, then?"
I pause. Has it really been that long?
My hair falls down my back, and
I can't remember the last time I sat here.

But the shock is brief.
"Yeah, that's fine," I say.
It's not a lie—at least I hope it's not.

I hate the black cutting cape.
The fabric bulges around my neck
Tickles at my chin
And makes my face look fat, as always.
At least I get to take my glasses off
So I don't have to see.

The next ten minutes are a blur
Just like my face in the mirror.
Snip snip, go the scissors.
Hiss hiss, goes the spray bottle.
Piece by piece, my brown locks
Fall away.

The woman asks, "Do you want it layered?"
Out of habit I say, "Yes."
I cannot tell you what that means,
Or if my hair would look the same without it.
"Yes" is the answer I've always given.
The one my mother instructed me to give.
I've never questioned it. Perhaps I should.
But that will have to wait 'til next time.

At last the scissors fall silent.
The woman says, "What do you think?"
I put my glasses on and look.

My hair is shorter than I'd hoped.
An inch or two above the shoulder.
"Bobbed," as some would say.
It is, I think, about as short
As I could bear.
Any shorter and I'd hate it,
For my reflection would be gone.
Instead I'd see my mother's face.

"That looks just fine," I say with a smile.
My troubles are my business only.

Once outside, I peer through the glass
In the shop windows.
The hair will take some getting used to,
And what a shame that I can't have
A ponytail.
But the long weight is finally off my scalp,
And my head feels light for once.

The last Saturday of the year.
No better time to start anew.