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I had only seen a picture of her once, but that was enough to implant the image on my mind. Tall and slim with long dark hair. Almost black in contrast to my dirty blonde, shoulder length hair. I had to admit that she was marginally slimmer than me and probably an inch or so taller, but other than the fact that it was someone different, I couldn't really see what he saw in her. She was probably a couple of years younger than my mid-thirties, but not more than that. I kept coming back to the same question, torturing myself endlessly: 'What would make him throw away the five years that we had spent together anyway?'

I was doing my best to get over him, but it had been a couple of months now and I was still moping. I was mad at him and mad at myself for what I was doing. Or not doing. That was it. I just wasn't doing anything. Although I hated pat phrases about moving on and closure, that was precisely what I needed to do. The question was how?

Over the next couple of days I did my best to pull back from the long days that I had started to do at work and to go back to a normal routine. I decided that I had to re-create the structure that I had before, just with somebody different. I needed to rebuild, pure and simple. I vowed to leave work early on Friday and to spend the weekend in a more positive frame of mind. I was beginning to wish that I hadn't turned down an invitation from Julie to go out on the town with her on Saturday. Perhaps it wasn't too late.

Early on the Friday afternoon I bumped into Ann in the lift and ending up going for coffee. She had been a tremendous source of support over the past few weeks and knew as much as anyone what had been going on. She had listened patiently and counselled me. I don't know where I would have been without her.

I could tell that she was pleased that I appeared to have turned a corner and wasn't wallowing quite as much as I had. She placed her hand on mine across the table in a gesture of solidarity.

'Good for you' she said 'Welcome back to the world!'

I smiled at her. 'I hadn't thought of it like that' I said.

'Just forget about him, get on with what you want to do and leave him to whatever he wants to do.'

The image from the photograph was back. That smiling face, the long, dark hair.

We cleared the table and went back to work. It wasn't long before my thoughts turned back to him and his new squeeze. I went to the restroom and while I was checking my make-up I was conscious of the difference between my indistinct, mousey hair and the dramatic black tresses in that picture. Was that it? Was that what he wanted? Even if it was, why should I care now, I concluded, eager not to get dragged back to where I had been for the past few weeks.

I went back to my office and took the phone book off the shelf. I flicked through until I came to the 'Hairdressers' section. I scanned the adverts, each one vying for prominence over all of the others, yet few of them actually succeeding. I put the book on the desk and closed my eyes. I made a random stab at the page with my index finger and decided that whatever I hit would be the one.

I opened my eyes and looked at what I had chosen. 'The Hair Company'. Not very imaginative, not overly inspiring, but that was the one. I picked up the phone and dialled.

'Hi' I said when the call was answered. 'I'd like to make an appointment please.'

'Who do you normally see?' the voice asked, entering into the familiar ritual of hair appointment etiquette.

'I'm new' I clarified.

'And what is it for?'

Now there was a question. Probably one that I should have prepared for better than I had. And what was the answer? There was that image again. Long and dark.

'I want to go short' I said. 'And blonde' I added, surprising myself.

'And what colour are you at the moment?'

'Sort of dirty blonde' I replied. I could think of no better description for it.

'Ok, then, Natalie could do it at four or Jilly tomorrow at ten' she said.

Four o'clock. Forty-five minutes away. No time to think. Or tomorrow morning. All night to think about it.

'Four's great' I said.

'And your name..?'

'Cathy Howell' I sad.

'We'll see you soon, Cathy.'

'See you' I said and put the phone down.

Forty five minutes. Time to pack up and leave.

I packed up and left and was at the salon on time. I drew a deep breath and went in. The receptionist beamed at me, showing how proud she was of the work that her dentist had done.

'Hi, I'm Cathy for Natalie' I said.

'Ah, yes, cut and colour' she said. I nodded.

She took my coat and hung it up, returning with a gown. I slipped the gown on and pinched myself. Less than an hour ago, I had the germ of an idea and now here I was. That was probably exactly what I needed. Less thinking and more action. Less consideration and more impulsiveness. The receptionist led me into the salon and sat me down.

Within moments I was joined by a friendly figure who introduced herself as Natalie. I was instantly drawn to her, she had a sort of disarming manner about her.

'So, Cathy, you're after a bit of a change, I hear' she said.

'You could call it that. The end of something, the start of something else' I said.

'Say no more' she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. 'So, do you have a definite idea of what you want or is this a reaction?' she asked.

'That's a good way to describe it' I said. I paused for a moment. 'I want something dramatic, something striking and I just thought short and blonde ought to do it.'

'Depends on what you mean by short and blonde' she replied.

'I'm happy to be guided by you, whatever you think' I said, not believing that I was actually that trusting.

'Well, if you're after drama than that increases, the shorter and blonder you go, it just depends on what you want.'

'How about we just say that I won't sue you whatever you do and I'm happy to sit here and let you do it.' I said.

She didn't reply, but studied me in the mirror before turning my chair towards her and squatting down to one side. She nodded almost imperceptibly. She stood up again and turned my chair back to face the mirror.

'Okay then. Cathy. I'm going to take you at your word unless you want to talk it through a bit more.' She waited for a response from me, but didn't get one. She continued.

'Right, well, I think we should do the cut first and then we'll have a think about what you want to do. I'm going to take the sides right down and then I'll blend the top in, how does that sound?'

'Different' was the best response that I could manage.

Her hand was back on my shoulder, comforting, consoling. 'Here goes' she said. She reached over to the workstation next to me and picked up a pair of electric clippers. She looked at what I assumed was the business end of them and took off the attachment. She blew on it to clear any clogged hairs from it and rather than put it back she placed it on the shelf, picking up a different one, which she attached smoothly.

'Sure' she queried.

I nodded my confirmation, feeling far less confident in myself. It was like a bungy jump, I tried to tell myself. Something that struck fear into you, but something that you would remember for the rest of your days. There was a much reduced risk of bodily harm with what I was about to do, so I told myself not to be so stupid. It was only a haircut, after all.

The clippers sprung into life and Natalie placed them just in front of my ear. I wanted to look away, but couldn't. The clippers moved upwards and backwards around my ear. They were pushing my hair in front of them. Pushing it out of the way. I could see short stubble where there had been tresses just moments ago. She brought the clippers round to the front again and moved them through a higher path, close to my temple. I exhaled audibly and I saw Natalie look at me in the mirror with an air of concern.

'It's too short, isn't it?' she said.

'It's short, but that wasn't about what you're doing, that was the past few weeks escaping, I think' I replied.

'This really is banishing demons, isn't it?' she probed.

'The new one has long, dark hair and I haven't been able to get that out of my head.' I explained.

'So the "short and blonde thing" was just to do the opposite of what he has now, is that it?' she asked.

I nodded, suddenly realising that nodding isn't a clever thing to do when someone is wielding clippers. Thankfully she had moved them away while we talked.

'Perhaps you don't have to do the blonde bit and then have all of the maintenance that goes with it, if all you want to do is make a break' she said.

I looked at her quizzically.

'We can do more dramatic than short and blonde' she said with a wicked smile. She held up the clippers where I could see and pulled off the attachment. She put it down next to the one that she had put on the shelf earlier. She reached over and opened a drawer, looking for something and then stopped. She turned back towards me.

'Do you want to do "really dramatic"?' she asked.

'Ok' I said, my curiosity pricked.

She flicked the switch on the clippers and moved back to stand behind me. Her left hand ran across the top of my head, gathering the hair and sweeping it off my face. Her right hand brought the clippers to my hairline and I felt them make contact with my scalp. She drew them backwards slowly over the crown of my head and I realised that the side of my head where she had started cutting minutes before was covered with hair so much longer than what I now had left on top of my head. I struggled to make out anything at all in the path of the blades.

She didn't pause, she just brought the clippers back to my hairline and made a companion cut alongside the first. More and more of my scalp was revealed as she worked. I was surprised at how calm I was. The dirty blonde hair that had been there for so long was gone and even though I did it the disservice of referring to it as "dirty blonde hair" all the time, it was still my "dirty blonde hair". And now it was gone.

I wasn't really conscious of how long it was before she turned the clippers off, but there I was staring silently at a very different me. I turned my head this way and that, intrigued by the way the light played off my shorn scalp. If someone had told me a few months ago that I could sit calmly and have my head shaved I would not have believed them, yet here I was, bald and quite serene. I felt Natalie's hand pass over my scalp tenderly.

'Is that dramatic enough for you?' she asked.

I nodded appreciatively.

'You could do with it being wet-shaved just to finish it off, but I haven't got any razors here with me. If you're careful, you could do it yourself in the shower when you get home.'

'Isn't that a bit extreme?'

'It's up to you, but it will feel much softer if you do, less of the sand-paper thing, you know.'

I reached up and felt it for myself. She was right. Even though it didn't look like there was any hair there, it was definitely raspy when stroked. Not that there was anyone to stroke it for me at the moment and the chances of finding someone in the next few weeks were now remote. Not that it mattered. I probably needed to get my head together properly before embarking on anything like another relationship. I continued to look at myself in the mirror, not quite able to work out what it was that was causing me to look so hard, apart from the bald head, that was. Then it struck me.

'I hadn't realised how pronounced my eyebrows are' I said.

'Your hair has always overwhelmed them, but now...' Natalie replied.

I carried on looking.

'I could bleach them for you, or I could get one of the girls to thin them out for you, if you want' she said.

I carried on studying myself intently.

'Or we could do it this way' she said, appearing at my side with a small gadget in her hand.

'Whatever you think, they're just not right as they are' I said.

A high-pitched, whirring sound would be the best that I could describe what I was hearing, different from the more determined sound of the clipers that she had used a few minutes earlier.

'Close your eyes' she said.

I felt a light tickle above my left eye socket and then another.

'Keep them closed' she said.

The sensation was repeated the other side and then the whirring stopped.

'You can open them now' she said.

This time I was shocked. The 'me' that was looking back was really strange now. My eyebrows had gone, giving me a totally different look. Who would have thought that a couple of strips of little hairs could make such a difference?

'Don't worry, I've got an eyeborw pencil, so we'll put some definition back before you go' she said.

'Wow, I think I might have needed a bit more talking around that' I said with a gasp.

'But would you have done it?' she asked.

'I don't know' I replied.

'Look at me' she said.

I did, thinking that she needed to tidy me up a little more.

'No, look at me' she said, pointing to her own eyebrows.

'I wouldn't have done it to you if I hadn't done mine.'

True enough, her own brows were pencilled in. I just hadn't noticed.

'I can't stand all the plucking either, so I just shave them and then draw them back on. I've even thought about tattooing them back on, but that seems so final' she said.

She approached me with a pencil and with a few practised strokes I was now in possession of 'eyebrows' again.

'Happy?' she asked.

'In more ways than one' I replied.

I settled up and headed home. I headed straight for the shower and lined up all the shaving equipment that I could find. I must admit that I was terrified of cutting myself and it took me the best part of an hour to get a result that I was happy with. It was time well spent, given the amazing sensations I felt as I sat in front of the television that evening. I just couldn't resist caressing my scalp. Every now and again I would stand up and look at myself in the mirror, admiring myself, hairless and browless. The brows had disappeared in the shower and I had decided not to replace them for the weekend. I wanted to spend some time trying to get used to not having them and then I could decide whether I was going to have brows or not for work on Monday morning. The one thing that really pleased me was that there hadn't been a single appearance of you know who since I came home.

Going out shopping on Saturday was an interesting experience. Despite my earlier thoughts, I had pencilled my brows on before I went out as I decided to take one step at a time. It is perhaps a sign of the times that nobody stopped and pointed at the 'freaky lady'. I had pitying glances from a couple of people, but my appearance largely met with indifference.

The main test came on Monday morning. That was definitely an 'eyebrows' day, although Ann noticed in milli-seconds. She insisted on stroking my scalp out of curiosity, and made rather positive noises about the whole thing. Other colleagues wanted to delve into the 'why and the how could you' type questions, but with Ann there was no need. She knew why and it was thanks to her support that it won't be too long before am back in Natalie's salon again for a refresh. I may not shave it again straight away; I may even see how I look with bleached stubble. Who knows? I'm free and I'm me and whoever I meet is going to know from the word 'go' that I like to do certain things. Who knows, maybe I can turn someone else on to my new-found experimentation. For that very reason, I shall be going out with the girls this Friday to test the waters.

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