Let me explain myself. I think it has to do with the testosterone hormone or something. When I get in the mood of a haircut, all I can think about is getting a short one, and you know, I hate short hair (well, only on myself).

When my hormones are not too high, I look at myself in the mirror and I like the look of a quite nice looking guy with medium length hair and who does not look that handsome with short hair. I always promise myself not to get it cut too much.

However, hair starts to grow, it’s hard to comb it and a haircut starts runs through mind. I start to fantasize about going to an old style barbershop and getting an unwanted, too short haircut. Of course the idea is to keep this in a fantasy level and have some fun with it but get a trim in a modern barbershop (not a salon, ever!!)

Some times, I just can't help it and I end up with a much shorter style than I really like. But last Thursday I promised myself I was only going to get a trim. The fantasy of going to a really old style barbershop I know, but never dare to go to, had been in my head for more than a week but I had no intentions to really going there.

Anyway, Thursday morning, updating my web site, writing to some haircut friends I have, Testosterone attacked. Why not go and get a trim but in that barbershop (a terrible risk, these guys are REALLY old style and there is no way of getting a decent haircut).

Heart pumping. Took the keys of my car. A little voice told me “you are going to regret this, please stop” but the craziness I told you about was stronger. The barbershop is quite far and I drove for more than 45 minutes. On the way, I calmed down a little bit and was tempted to go back, but hormones were in charge.

Finally, with my heart pumping really hard, I got there. It was closed!!. I was at the same time relieved and disappointed. The crazy man in me urged me to go to another old style barbershop I had seen. The real me asked me to go to a modern barbershop or even to get a haircut another day.

Guess who won? I drove another 20 minutes (old style barbershops are hard to find) and you are not going to believe this: I couldn’t find it. I am sure I went to the right place but now there is a bakery there.

My nutty side was getting upset. I had been trying to get a haircut for more than an hour and nothing. This time the real me decided that it was enough and I took the way back home.

However, on the way, I remembered I once went to another old style barbershop (not as terrible as the ones I was looking for, but old enough) and headed there. Incredibly, it had gone out of business too!!

Let me tell you that my country has been in an economic crisis for three years now and I have noticed that prices in general are depressed. But haircut prices are ridiculous. 4 years ago I paid US$ 15 for a haircut, now in the quite good places it costs only US$ 5. I can understand how these old style guys went out of business. They where cheap (no more than $5) but now you can go to a fashion place for the same price.

Anyway I just couldn’t believe it. I was tired of driving all over the city. It was getting late and my wife would arrive at 12:30 and we were going out of town for the weekend. It seemed I would have to go with my long hair.

The struggle between the crazy me and the normal me were terrible. I was really, really disappointed. I finally got the guts for a haircut in the barbershop I had been fantasizing about and finally I couldn’t do it. The deal was that I was going to ask for a trim. Just getting a haircut there was exciting enough, no too short haircut was needed.

When I was arriving home, I saw I still had about 40 minutes left. And I asked myself: why not go to the modern barbershop close by? But the crazy me said that there was not much excitement in where I was going to go, unless….

Oh, no, I was thinking about a short haircut again. “If you can go to an old style barbershop to get a trim, go to a modern one and get a real haircut!!”, the crazy me demanded.

But again, I know I always regret it. I parked the car. One voice saying let’s do it and the other one saying, come on, just ask for a trim.

The barbershop has 5 black chairs. All of them old style. No female hairstylist. All the barbers are guys between 50 and 60 years old. It was empty. I pass by but didn’t have the guts to get in. Just beside it, there is a bakery so I decided to buy something to eat while deciding what to do.

Finally the crazy me had an idea: I always wear a tapered style, but almost never shorter than  #2 on the back and sides. So instead of my trim, I was going to ask for a #1 on the neck and over the ears. I knew I was going to regret it but I was no longer in control.

I went back and entered into the barbershop. As I told you, it was empty so all the barbers were available. I decided not to look at anyone in particular and went in waiting for instructions.

A barber, around 60, invited me to his chair. I sat down. He put a black cape tight around me. I was finally, after more than 2 hours, ready for my haircut. Oh God, I was exited.

I have always had a fantasy: I want a barber who does not ask what I want. One that does not like to talk. One that just takes the clippers and starts to cut it short.

Well, this one was almost like that. Can you believe that instead of asking “how do you want it?” he only said “Short?”

I couldn’t believe it!! After all, the day was becoming great. I just nodded but when he turned on the clippers, I added: “#1 on sides and back please.”

So he turned the clippers off and looked for the attachment in a drawer. “What am I doing” I asked myself.

He finally found it and put it on the clippers. Without saying a word, he turned them on and passed them over my sideburn, then he bended my left ear and passed it all the way up, almost to the crown!!

Oh my God, I was going to ask for a #1 but I wanted it tapered, so I wasn’t expecting him go up that high. The real me was alarmed and I said to the barber “leave it longer up there” pointing at the upper part of my left side. He just replied “don’t worry.”

He then started to work on the back. I felt the clippers pushing hard against my neck, going up, and up, and up. In that moment, I surrendered. I knew there was nothing to do but let the guy finish the job.

He passed and passed the clippers again and again and I felt my head was cooler. When he passed it over the right side, I saw how long it was. Lots of hair fell on the cape. I saw them and again I knew I was going to regret it.

Finally the clippers went silent. I had a funny look. All the hair on the sides was gone. I could perfectly see the shape of my head. The clippers had gone up too high and there was only longer hair very close to top. But not for long. He took the scissors and in few strokes he shortened what was left on the sides and back. I could feel the scissors cutting very close to my head.

“Please, cut just a little bit on top” I asked. He said “I have to even the style, so I have to cut it much shorter than it is.” And very quickly he did. He put some alcohol around my ears and neck and shaved me there.

When he was done, the crazy me was so exited, instead of a trim in an old style barbershop, I was too short again!!

After releasing the testosterone, the real me was upset. Why did I have to do it? I was looking so nice and now, well it’s not horrible, but I could be looking better.

I have to accept that it was so exiting that maybe it was worth it. In fact, while writing the story, the crazy me has taking over again!!