skinhead after dad moves out by Deacon

---

Skinhead after dad moves out by Deacon

I am Deacon and this is my story of getting the haircut I desired.

My dad was quite lenient on how I looked as long as I kept within his house rules as he kept reminding me it was his house so it was his rules. One of those rules was my hair. As long as looked neat and tidy it was fine but under no circumstances could I even think of a buzz cut even though I was sixteen and about to leave school. The problem was I had become friends with a couple of skinheads who were a year older than me. I thought the skinheads looked hard and not to be messed with but me I had hair that touched the collar and was styled like an Elvis quiff so I had the nickname quiff boy at school. My skinhead mates were always on at me to lose the quiff and join them as skinheads. "If only I could I kept telling them.” I kept very fit as I was an amateur boxer and was regularly in the gym or at the boxing club I belonged to.

One day after I left my part time job helping my uncle in his fruit and veg shop in town I arrived home and found my mum crying after she found out that my dad had been having an affair with a younger woman and got her pregnant so he had decided to move out and live with her leaving mum to look after me and my younger brother. I consoled her and told her we would be fine as she was a high up professional in the banking industry. That night I went to my boxing classes and met up with my skinhead mates and told them what had occurred at home.
"Great Deacon that means no dad so you can get rid of your hair.” One told me.
I looked at him and it dawned on me he was right I could become a skinhead if I wanted to. I told them I would think about it but wanted to run it past my mum to make sure she was ok with it.
"We will come with you mate when you get it done give you moral support.” The other skinhead said. He also told me they had some clothes I could have until I could afford my own. I told them I had enough money to get my boots with my part time job I had with my uncle. After I left the skinheads I got home but mum was already in bed so I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror trying to imagine how I would look as a skinhead.

The next morning at breakfast I ran it past mum about me getting a skinhead haircut and she replied as I was sixteen I could do what I wanted with my hair but asked me to wait until the end of the week when I finished my exams. I agreed and said I would also ask my uncle if it would affect me working in his shop luckily he said he would have no problems with it. That night I told my skinhead mates that I could get the haircut and they told me they would take me on the afternoon after I finished my last exam. I told them I had ordered the boots and was going to pick them up the next day. One of the skinheads suggested I dress in skinhead gear before I got the haircut which I agreed to.

The day of my final exam arrived and duly finished. As I walked out of the gates for the last time I saw Nick and Scott my skinhead mates sitting in a car waiting for me.
"Already to become a skin them Deacs?” Nick asked.
"Cannot wait to get it done mate.” I replied.
We drove back to Nicks flat where I quickly dressed in a black polo with yellow trim and bleacher jeans. Nick then put a pair of thin red braces on me and I showed them my ten hole cherry doc marten boots.
"Get them on then skinhead.” Scott told me.
I quickly put them on and laced them as I had seen on you tube. After lacing the boots I stood up and looked in the mirror at my new clothes and saw a skinhead with a quiff looking back at me.
"Time to visit the barber for your induction.” Scott told me.
Nodding I followed Nick and Scott out of the flat and walked down the road to the barbers shop. Walking in I saw a youngish barber say his mid-twenties with a shaved head. "Got a new recruit Dave.” Nick said as we sat down to wait.
"Should be about ten minutes.” Dave said as he carried on cutting a young boys hair.
It seemed a lot longer than ten minutes and I could feel the nerves setting in about me losing my hair but eventually Dave called me over to his chair and caped me up.
"All off then mate is it?” Dave asked me as I looked in the mirror.
"Yeah take it all off.” I replied confidently. "Make me a skinhead like Nick and Scott.”
"You sure now Deacs?” Scott laughed.
I looked at my quiff in the mirror seeing Nick and Scott in the background. "Yeah I am Scott I want to be a skinhead like you.”
I watched as Dave picked up a set of clippers. "These bald faders will make you a proper skinhead.” Dave told me as he flicked the switch.
"Shorter the better.” I replied getting more confident of wanting to be a skinhead.
Dave tilted my head forward and I felt the clippers run up the back of my head depositing about an inch of black hair into the cape. I could feel the cold steel blades on the back of my head as he made more passes with the clippers depositing more hair into the cape. As he moved to the sides I watched as my black hair was reduced to mere stubble and I saw a smile appear on my face as I started thinking about how I was getting one over my dad. Dave then placed the clippers in the centre of my quiff and I watched as he pushed the clippers through it leaving just a trace of stubble where my quiff used to be. A few more passes over the top of my head and the quiff and quiff boy were history. Dave placed the clippers back on the bench and removed the cape. I immediately put my hand on my head and felt the merest stubble on it.
"SKINHEAD!” Scott and Nick both shouted as I walked back over to them.
I just smiled and said thanks for coming with me. Paying Dave we walked out and I felt the warm sunshine on my freshly shorn scalp. Looking I a shop window I saw Deacon the skinhead looking back at me.

Arriving home my mum was slightly shocked at how short my hair was but agreed it was my choice and as long as I wanted to keep it I could. The boxing club loved it said it made me look more like a boxer and my uncle was fine with it as well.
My brother could not stop rubbing my head and calling me skinhead saying he wanted the same but mum said he could get a buzz cut but not as short as mine. Dad saw it on a visit he made to see me and my brother said he did not like it and I said tough as you don't live here now. He has not spoken to me since.

A year later I am still skinhead but shave it smooth when I have a boxing match. All I can say is thanks dad for moving out and letting me become what I wanted to be.

---