Ronald Mendoza stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, scrutinizing the thick, wavy black hair that cascaded past his ears. At thirty years old, he took pride in his luscious locks, inherited from his mother’s side of the family. But today, as he stood in his modest Bogotá apartment, all he could think about was the 75,000 Colombian pesos the local barbershop wanted to charge him for a haircut.
Ronald being a miser man, always focused on saving every penny, believes that paying for a haircut is an unnecessary luxury. Convinced of his own resourcefulness, he thinks that cutting his hair himself will be just as good. He thought he already owns scissors and a bathroom mirror, he envisions the task as simple—a quick snip here and there, saving him the cost of a professional.
“Highway robbery,” he muttered, fishing through his kitchen drawer for the craft scissors he used for his DIY projects. The orange-handled scissors felt foreign in his grip as he positioned them near his temple. As it was his first time, his hands trembled slightly, each snip of the blades sending a sensation through his body. The first few cuts were tentative, barely taking off any length at all. “You can do this, Ronald,” as he lay out a newspaper as a cover to collect hair. He encouraged himself, gaining confidence as locks of hair began falling into the newspaper. The craft scissors, though not designed for hair-cutting, moved through his thick mane with surprising efficiency. He worked methodically, using his fingers as guides to measure length, just as he’d observed his barber doing countless times before.
For nearly an hour, Ronald snipped away here and ther, periodically stopping to brush hair from his shoulders and assess his progress. The sides were coming along nicely, and the top maintained a decent shape. Pride swelled in his chest as he imagined the money he was saving. He could already taste the extra empanadas this budget haircut would afford him.
Then came time for the finishing touches. Ronald reached for his beard trimmer, a cheap model he’d bought from a street vendor last year. The plastic casing was cracked, held together with tape, but it had served him well enough for maintaining his facial hair. He clicked it on, the motor whining in protest as he brought it to his hairline.
The first pass along his neckline sent a chill through his body. The trimmer’s blades cut his hair effortlessly and cleanly. He removed the guard to expose the bare blade to give clean lines, but his hand shook creating an uneven, jagged line. Panic rose in his throat as he tried to even it out, only to make it worse. The trimmer snagged on a particularly thick patch of hair, causing Ronald to jerk his hand reflexively. A bald patch appeared, standing out like a beacon of poor decisions against his dark hair.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, his heart racing as he examined the damage in his hand mirror. The neckline now resembled a topographical map of the Andes, with a deep valley compared to the peaks around it. It was a fairly big patch of missing hair, with his scalp easily visible. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he realized there was only one way to fix this disaster.
With trembling hands, Ronald reached for his roommate’s electric hair clippers, borrowed without permission from the bathroom cabinet. These were professional-grade tools, with multiple attachment guards and sharp blades that hummed with authority. He removed all the guards, leaving just the bare blades exposed.
The first pass of the clippers against his scalp felt like surrender. The sensation of cool metal against his skin sent goosebumps down his arms as the machine efficiently mowed down his remaining hair. Each stroke revealed more of his scalp, pale from years of being hidden under his thick mane. The bathroom floor became a black sea of discarded hair, each fallen strand a testament to his misguided frugality.
Ronald’s eyes welled up as he methodically worked the clippers over his entire head. The vibration of the machine seemed to echo his racing heartbeat, each pass bringing him closer to his new reality. He paid special attention to the crown, where his hair had always been the most stubborn, making sure not to miss a single patch.
When he finally turned off the clippers, the silence in the room was deafening. Ronald stood motionless, staring at his transformed reflection. His head, now completely bald, gleamed under the fluorescent lights. His ears, once discreetly hidden, stood out prominently. He ran a hand over his smooth scalp, the unfamiliar texture sending a chill down his spine.
A knock at the door startled him from his trance.
“Ronald? Are you okay in there?” It was his roommate, Marco. “I heard the clippers…”
Ronald opened the door, revealing his new look. Marco’s jaw dropped, then quickly transformed into a barely suppressed grin.
“Don’t say it,” Ronald warned, but it was too late.
“Well,” Marco chuckled, “I guess this is one way to save money on shampoo.”
Ronald couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting him. He looked at the mess of hair surrounding him, the craft scissors still lying in the room, the beard trimmer that had sealed his fate, and the professional clippers that had delivered the coup de grâce.
Sweeping up his fallen hair he said “I’m going to have to borrow your clippers now to maintain this look, if you don’t mind Marco”
Marco leaned against the doorframe, grinning. “It is okay Ronald.”
As Ronald cleaned up the evidence of his misadventure, he caught his reflection one more time. Despite everything, there was something liberating about his new look. No more worrying about bad hair days, no more expensive styling products, and definitely no more attempting to cut his own hair with craft scissors.
The next morning, as he walked to his office in downtown Bogotá, Ronald noticed how the cool mountain air felt different against his bare scalp. Colleagues did double-takes, and a few even complimented his bold new style, including women. By lunchtime and with a big smile, he had convinced himself that this had been his plan all along – a deliberate choice rather than a cost-cutting disaster.