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Its tough being buzzed. by Matt Matty


It was time for a trim. I have really straight black hair. Its normal preference is to just flop straight down, covering my eyes, and nose, below my ears and well onto my collar. I usually just wet and push it back with my fingers. For work or dates, I'll use whatever product I have and comb it all back. When it starts getting a little scruffy, I know its time for a trim. My hair is pretty easy to cut, just snip an inch or so off the ends, and I am good to go for another couple months. I'd go to a barbershop or one of the chains, easy peasy.

With the hot weather back, I wanted to get the hair off my collar so that my shirts wouldn't get wet when I got out of the shower, especially if I hit the gym at lunch time. I returned to a barber just a block or so from my house and was surprised to se it was under new management. The barber was a guy in his mid-thirties. His hair was cut in a short businessman's cut, pretty typical. There was kid in the chair and several people waiting. The barber greeted me and invited me to sit down. I said I didn't know if I had time, to which he replied, this is my opening special, don't you have time for a five dollar haircut? What the heck, I thought, lets go for it. I was surprised to see all the customers ahead of me get fairly short cuts, but it is the beginning of the warm weather season, so probably no big deal. When it was my turn, I got into the chair, was caped up and waited for him to ask me how I wanted it cut. He started combing my hair down and commented on how nice and straight it was. Then, just as I was about to tell him to just trim an inch, I heard a click and felt clippers plunge into my hair and felt them push him up toward the top of my head. "HEY," I yeled, "what the f***?!" The barber stopped, and came around in front of me. "What's up," he asked. I said, "It feels like you a scalping me." The barber replied "Oh a funny man," and looked at the three of four guys waiting. "He comes in for my five dollar buzz cut opening special and then tries to scare me." With that he went back to work pushing the clippers back up into the nape. I said, "what are you talking about, I didn't ask for a buzz cut, I just came in for a trim. I always wear my hair long like it is..er was." The barber stopped again and suddenly the dime dropped for him. "You didn't see the sign or get my flyer?" I answered no and he ran outside to see that some consruction materials for the store next door were leaning up obscuring his sign. "Look, pal, I am really sorry, but there is nothing I can do now but finish the cut." One look in the mirror told me he was right.

As he continued buzzing my hair, my eyes started to tear up. This caused a couple of the guys waiting to start making comments..."what are you a girl," "get over it, you big cissy." I couldn't help myself, as the buzz progressed, I got more distressed. I tried ot buck up but it was hard. He buzzed the top down pretty tight. He cleaned up around my ears and neck with a straight razor. Then he turned me back to the mirror. I was scalped. I looked about 13 years old and my ears looked huge, to me. I got up out of the chair and the guys that were waiting told me I looked good and that I should keep it short (fat chance, I thought). The barber didn't let me pay and promised me two free haircuts in the future.

Luckily, my hair grows pretty fast, in about 6 week the buzz was to grown out to the point that I could make it lay down. I had seen some of the other guys from the barbershop around the neighborhood and they would rub my head or tease me a bit on the street. But this particular Saturday morning, I ran into two of them right near the barber. "Hey its the guy who cried about his haircut," said one. "Yeah, looks like he's gotten over it and is headed back to get cleaned up," said the other. I was so embarrassed that I didn't know what to say. They sort of forced me into the barber shop. The barber looked surprised to see me. "Well, hello," he said, "woould you like me to clean up your neck a little to help with the growing in process. One of my new "friends" said, "oh no, he wants to show us that he has gotten over his fear of haircuts." I was so miserable and so afraid of another scene, that I just gave in and got in the chair. "OK," said the barber, "same as last time." My mouth went dry, I finally squeeked out a yes and he was off. Much quicker than last time, I was tightly buzzed again. I got up, paid the barber and my new "friends" told me that they would pick me up in a month for our next visit. I walked home rubbing my buzzed head and wondering if I would ever find a girl who would even look at me again since I hadn't scored since the first haircut. It is tough being buzzed.



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