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It began here by Carlos
So here's where it starts. Working class lad brought up by single mum. Mum was a gem but having me late at 37 meant that she didn't get how 12 year old saw themselves in 1979 and included the hair.
I was in junior school in a Northern English town and having gone to lessons that morning was settling in. Then the day really begins. A knock on the classroom door and the request would Karl please go to the headmasters room. Off I went not knowing what I had done and wondering why I had been called. I opened the door to find my mum in the room chatting with the head. Your mum has told me that your aunt is not well and that she won't be able to look after you today so you can have the day off. With that my hand was clasped and I was led out of the room and off for the day.
Something was amiss mum did not like me having time off so as we walked away from the school my heart to me something was wrong. Where are we going I asked suspicious by now. Mum started comments about my shoulder length hair a few weeks earlier but my crying in past visits had been to convincing her that barbers trip were the occasional trim and despite her wishes the hair had been allowed to grow. Not this time. That hair is getting cut and I was pushed into the waiting bus for the short journey to one of three local barbers.
The journey was hell. Mum's hand tightened on my arm and my cries went unheard. She didn't talk she just sat. Four stops later and the grip pulled me off the bus opposite the worse barber of the lot possible the oldest in town. I pulled away and said I hated her which I regret but the hand was tight and soon was being pushed through a door into the shop.
Fear gripped me as my coat was taken off me and I was pushed into a empty chair and wait my turn.
The shop was basic. Two elderly men were being shorn and another waited. It stunk of talc and cigarette smoke and I moaned. The barbers were both in their sixties and cut the hair of the two men in the chairs. Pat and Joe their names. Joe a big old man and pat a slight balding man with glasses and a hard face. I waited and hoped at least let it be Joe the lesser of two evils. Soon one of the customers was finished and Joe's chair was taken up by the waiting man. Pat finished his the customer paid and left. My turn had come, pushing me forward my mum made sure there was no gap between her and the door. Pat was placing a block of wood across the arms of the chair and mum unceremoniously pushed me up and into the waiting peril Very quickly a large sheet was flung around me and tucked in to my collar and a comb ran roughly though my tangled hair. I looked at my reflection bound and waiting with no way out.
As I said I'd never been here and I'd only ever has trims whilst that was bad enough this felt wrong. What is it to be asked pat to my mum now sat awaiting the start, short back and sides please. My eyes were tear stained and I was in shock. Short as you can back and sides. No one spoke to ME. number one OK love and the fringe? Short as well please and I waited. I had never had clippers used on me so the noise when pat turned them on scared me. His tight grip on my head as my head was pushed forward. The noise as the first feel of the buzzing blades balded the back of my head was something I'll never forget and the five minutes of shearing felt like a punishment especially around my ears. I looked down as masses of my hair tumbled onto my shoulders and down onto the sheet. I could feel the cold air on the back of my head and I saw my ears without my locks covering them. I finally looked into the mirror and saw my mother holding her purse intently watching as I was shorn. The grip changed to my chin and as the clippers stopped my head was gripped again. This time the top an the scissors began soon my long fringe was combed passed my eyes before being hacked in a roller straight line three quarters of the way up my forhead.. My tears had dried and I was resigned to the odd bastardized cut and the following name calling I would get from my friends. At least it was finished or so I thought but the clippers returned and a shadow of my mind became visible as the uppers returned. I cried out this time in pain as my skin felt the rough blames. His grip never lapsed and then he spoke not to. E but to mum. Looks more like a boy now than a little girl he said and she said happily yes and I aim to keep it like that now thank you. To add insult a razor was used on my neck an a brush brush my head down into the mass of hair. He didn't show me the back he just swept the sheet off as I sat looking like a well short sheep. Mum was happy again she grabbed my arm this time to take me out of the chair and into my coat. I was in shock as she paid him and thanked him with a tip. I would be back she would not have it any other way.
We left but instead of taking the bus home we pushed me ahead and we began to walk home in the rain. My head felt really cold and I cursed her but she was content and soon as we walked we bumped into a neighbour. Hello Maggie and looked at me ooh finally got him in the barber's. Quarry Green was it? About time he had that mop chopped. Yes said mum but he's a swine in the chair! Done now and that's it for long hair. Pats done a real good job. Next time all off said Anne not much left now said my mum but next time yeah all off. Six months later it was I was shorn to enter secondary school again by pat mugged the old guy who never spoke to me
A true story to the letter!