Moments with Michael

Hairstyles

It's the year 1994, and you and Michael have been dating for two years. You live with him at Neverland.

"Wauw! Michael, that looks great!" I tell him, as he sits in the chair with his hairdresser standing behind him, a satisfied expression on her face.

And lots of long, black hairs decorating the floor. It's only a week since he suddenly told me, that he was bored of his look, and wanted to try something new. I was, of course, blank for ideas, but he already had one. He wanted to cut his hair short. At first I was shocked, as I absolutely adore this long, soft, black hair of his. But over a few days he got me convinced, that it could be good, and if not, then what's the big deal? It's hair, it grows out again. His constant talk about it actually got me really excited about it, and this morning I was just as impatient as him, when we waited for the hairdresser. She had to come to Neverland, of course. The paparazzi can get the craziest stories, even from something as simple as my boyfriend going to a hairdresser. Just because he happens to be Michael Jackson.

"You think so?" He asks me, a big smile lighting up his face.

"Absolutely" I answer, smiling just like him, when I take his hand and squeezes it. He stands up from the chair, sending a smile and a small bow to the hairdresser, as he often does when he's unsure how to thank someone.

"Thank you very much! I really appreciate that you would drive all the way over here!" He tells her.

The poor girl just stands there, trying her best to look professional, when I can clearly see in her eyes, that she's just as much of a fangirl as those who goes to his concerts, singing along with all their hearts, dancing and screaming and some even fainting. You can see this special little glimpse in their eyes, when they see him, and I can see that in her eyes right now. But she stays professional, sends him a smile and starts to pack up her things, with hands that only shakes a little.

I take Michaels hand and leads him out of the room, trying to tell him through the look in my eyes or telepathy or something, that she would probably appreciate to be left alone with the well-known act of putting every item in the right place, while digesting exactly who's hair she just cut. That's how I would feel.

He finally gets the hint, and follows me out.

"You better give her some time. And a chance to keep the professional look." I tell him, with a small smile to let him know that I don't mean it in a bad way.

"I'll slide a note in her pocket" He chuckles.

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Hours later, when the hairdresser is long gone, me and Michael lays together in the bed. We were actually about to sleep, but then we started talking...

"It's still so soft" I mumble, both my hands buried in his now short hair. "It's really pretty! My only regret is, that now I can't braid your hair anymore! I really liked that!"

He laughs a bit, and I can't help but smile myself. It always makes me so happy when he's happy!

"I guess you'll have to live with that, Gry, because I'm not growing it out again anytime soon. I really like it short!" He replies, kissing the tip of my nose as he says my name.

"Oh just wait, all of sudden you'll start missing it!" I threatens him with laughter in my voice.

"Missing not being able to brush my hair in less than 15 minutes? Missing having my head a thousand degrees in the summer? Missing having small braids that I forget abut, when I have to brush it? I don't think so!"

I just roll my eyes at him, not knowing how to react.

"But now I wanna do something new with my hair too!" I say instead, expressing a thought I've had, since he made it clear, that he was going to cut his.