My hair was quite long now, guess those university years fly by very quickly. Mum noticed it as well and recommended a place where I can get a haircut for a really low price. However, she liked the longer hair on me, so there was a sense of disappointment displayed in her face when leaving for the cut. Additionally, the stylist was a close friend of mum, therefore, the reason it being so cheap. I headed over to the place and the lady greeted me. "Hi Joey, I heard all the instructions from your mum, so you can relax." I headed over to the chair appreciating the comment made by her, "I hope you don't mind if I doze off?" I replied.

The stylist was totally fine with it and started prepping me. "So, Joey...I heard from your mum that uhm...you like to cross-dress. Is it true?" It was such a sudden question, that it totally caught me off guard! I replied shyly that it wasn't the right time to talk about that subject and more so with strangers. She apologized and gathered all my hair in a clip and prepared for the cut. It was kind of a weird move as normally barbers or stylist that I previously went to, wouldn't gather all my hair, rather they would just leave it loose. Ignoring her methodology, I finally closed my eyes for my mini dozing session.

(...It was kind of common for me to doze off during haircuts but from my experience, there was always the snipping or machine buzzing sounds in the background but this time, it was total silence.

...It felt like the mini dozing session was going on for longer than intended.

...Usually the sensation of my head getting lighter becomes apparent over time but this time, it was the total opposite. Heavier and Heavier was the sensation this time.)

"Alright time to get up. Joey," someone echoed into my ears, and with that my eyelids slowly opened as well. As soon as everything was fully visible to my eyes, I couldn't believe what I was seeing!

The weight on my head was a clear sign that this wasn't just a horrible dream. I barked back at the stylist on why she had committed such an act. She was surprised at my question and responded that this was a dear request from my mother. I was confused on why such a request would come from my own mother and at the same time, my mum rushed inside the stylist's place. Her expression was the same as mine, stunned, but that quickly changed into a happy smile. "What's the meaning of this?" I shouted at her, but she responded that there must have been a mistake.

After some hesitation, my mother revealed that she was talking about my "personal issues" and my interest in transitioning with her stylist friend over the phone. Apparently, what had happened today was an idea offered by mum's stylist friend in an attempt to jump-start the process. Mum regretted not revealing this information and was on her way to stop her friend from doing anything serious. However, as soon as she saw me with the longer braided hair, she was in total awe and loved the new look. I was opposed to this idea, which was against my wishes, and demanded a proper haircut. Before anything could happen, mother proposed an interesting offer in a way to not cut my hair.

So, at my mum's place, I was paying rent for staying with her, but with this offer, it would be me who would get paid. It was an appealing offer for someone like myself who got kicked out of their recent job and was at home most of the time. Additionally, there was another requirement to this offer, if it were to be agreed, which was keeping my hair in a tip-top condition and learning all the proper grooming associated with having long hair. "Alright mum, it's a deal!" I responded, and with that, my mother's eyes glistened like the stars, and her face exhibited excitement. Life went on as usual for me, even with the new addition of my long hair.

I slowly got used to the added weight on my head, and as a result, grooming for such long hair became a part of my daily routine, just as mum had set out in our deal. Mother was paying me handsomely, and my savings were increasing significantly, which made me happy. However, part of that money was spent on keeping my mane healthy. Mum loved styling my hair in various ways, but her most popular choice was different types of braided hairstyles. I was on my way to one of the local stores to pick up some stuff for mum when a child asked me a question: "Could you tell me where the nearby McDonald's is, miss?" I responded that it was close by, but something about the question bothered me.

Then, the realization hit me that the boy referred to me as "miss" instead of "sir," and it was extremely shocking for me. Was my appearance just feminine, or was it the twin braids that had made him think so? My androgynous face could have been a reason as well, but this was the first time someone thought I was a female. The stylist's words came to mind: was the longer hair the starting step towards my transition? Finally with an unwavering determination, I fully embraced the transformative power of my longer hair. The encounter with the stylist had been a catalyst, igniting a fire within me to embrace my femininity and become the woman I had always felt deep inside.

The constant presence of my mother, treating me as her daughter rather than her son, had played a significant role in shaping my mindset. Her tender care and nurturing had shattered any doubts I had about my decision.The daily ritual of brushing and braiding my flowing locks became a persuasive reminder of the path I had chosen. Driven by a desire to repay my mother's unconditional love, I set my sights on becoming a stylist myself. It was where it all began, where the spark of transformation had been ignited. I yearned to help others discover their true selves, just as I had. To achieve this, I knew I had to learn from the very stylist who had changed my life.

In homage to that fateful event, I incorporated braids into every hairstyle I crafted. It became a tribute to the power of transformation. Today, even though my hair cascaded freely till my back, I styled it in a way that featured a delicate braid in the middle. It not only looked stunningly girly but also served as the symbol of the event that had set me on this path. As I prepared for my first training session with the stylist, I adorned myself with full-on makeup and a short top, accentuating my features and embracing my femininity. With nerves tingling and determination in my heart, I was ready to embark on this new journey. Wish me luck!