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A different start by Storyteller

I have been writing stories, which I have posted here, and I would like to comment a little on them. The stories I write are imaginary, but I try to put them as realistically as possible in my reality and in my characteristics when I was young, because I lived from 8 to 22 years old as a young man with long hair, between the 70s and 80s, it was my own free will with the permission of my parents. However, nowadays, I like to imagine what it would have been like if, at a certain point in my childhood or adolescence, this had been altered by an unexpected extremely short haircut. With that, I know that the stories can be similar in terms of characters, because I try to impress on the character who tells the story my physical and attitudinal characteristics of the time and because I like the idea of an unexpected haircut that would take me by surprise, I also do not bring anything forced or punitive into my stories, as this is not my style or what I feel like imagining. I hope you understand. Well, this prologue is also intended to introduce this story which, I hope, won’t be seen as abusive or inconvenient, as it involves a child, it is just a haircut for an eight year old boy. I wanted to write this story to imagine what it would have been like if at the beginning of my entire journey as a long haired young man something had happened differently.

I was eight years old and, thanks to my insistence and, mainly, to my older brother, my father allowed us to let our hair grow as the fashion of the time dictated. For the first time, then, we spent a few months without having to go to the barbershop and my hair was beyond my collar and completely covered my ears. My father then said that in order to keep our hair in a long style, we had to go to the barber when it was too long, for a little trim. That day, then, Dad took us to the barbershop. Once there, my brother was the first to climb into the barber's chair. The barber was surprised to see us with such long hair and returning there after so long. He asked my father how my brother's haircut would be and my father replied that my brother could decide it himself, my brother said he just wanted his hair to be trimmed all around.

I was sitting, as usual, obedient and quiet, beside my father, while the barber began to cut my brother's hair with scissors. At that point, a gentleman with very short hair and a military appearance arrived, greeted everyone and sat down next to my father. He started talking to my father and asked if we were his children, my father said yes and he asked if my father agreed that we had long hair. My father said it was the first time he was letting us, due to fashion. He then commented "The older one, all right, but this younger one, looks so well-behaved and obedient, why don't you keep him in a short haircut?" referring to me.

My father looked at me and was thoughtful. I didn't sketch any reaction, just stood still with my head slightly lowered. The man continued, "Look, if you get him used to a very strict military style haircut he will naturally want to continue with this style and you will have a son with an orderly and clean look." My father thanked the man and did not comment further, just remained silent and thoughtful. I, as it was my nature, did not dare say anything, nor look. I just stood there waiting for my brother's cut to finish.

Soon, my brother's cut was ready, just a slight trim, shorter than it was before, but still in the long style and covering his ears, my brother came down from the chair with a satisfied smile and came to sit beside me , but I soon got up, because I knew it was my turn in the chair. I climbed on the barber chair and the barber put a light blue cape around my neck and closed it tightly, making sure my hair didn't get caught inside the cape, then he used the pedal to raise the height of the chair because I was still too small.

The barber started combing my hair and praised the fact that it was well combed, without knots and clean. I smiled and said, "Thank you, Sir." The barber then said "Is the cut also his choice?" looking at my father. My father then said, "No, for him go for a military haircut, he is still young enough to have a cut indicated by me" I went cold, but I remained silent, looking straight ahead, into the mirror. The barber still asked "A military style, Sir?" and dad said, "Yes, a cut like the new cadets in the military academy." The man next to my dad smiled with satisfaction.

The barber held my head tightly, picked up clippers, which I had never seen being used before, placed the # 1 blade on, turned them on and started running them on top of my head in a single movement from the forehead to the nape. I started to hear, for the first time, the loud noise of clippers working and feel them vibrate in my head. My long hair started to fall behind the chair and in the mirror I saw a stripe of stubble open at the top of my head, right in the middle. Then the barber started making a second pass of the clippers next to the first, he did this job firmly and did it quickly, it didn't take long for him to do another and another pass of the clippers and soon there was nothing but stubble on the top of my head.

He also ran the clippers over the right and left sides making my ears fully exposed again and my hair a lot shorter than I used to have even before I could let it grow. My hair was now all at the same length, which I could barely see in the mirror. The barber then switched off the clippers, but he was not done yet, he replaced the # 1 blade by another one that had # 00000 written on it. I saw that bunch of zeros and was intrigued by what it meant.

The barber put his firm hand on top of my head, and I could feel his hand practically touching my skin. He then pushed my head down a little and started to run the clippers on the back of my head from nape to crown. Now, the hairs that were being cut were just little bristles. The barber continued to hold my head and with the clippers he was buzzing the entire back.

Then he tilted my head a little and started running the clippers on the right side, from sideburns to crown, it was a few passes and soon I started to see that the stubble there was even shorter, practically shaved, I didn't even imagine that hair could be cut that short. He then bent my ear and ran the clippers around my ear, making sure all the area was perfectly buzzed. Afterwards he tilted my head to the other side and did exactly the same steps as he had done on the right side.

After that, he finally turned his clippers off and put them back on a hook on the wall. He took a duster brush and started dusting everything, my face, my head, around the ears, my nape, and my neck. He put talcum powder on the tips of the brush and passed it around my ears and on the nape. He patted the top of my head, smiled and said "Good boy", I smiled and said "Thank you, Sir", he opened the cape, lowered the chair, turned it around so I could leave and said to my father "Ready, there is your son like a little cadet".

My father got up, welcomed me with open arms, smiled and said to the barber "It was very good, I didn't even think it could be so good", then he turned to the other man and said "Thank you very much for the suggestion, Sir" and the man smiled. My father paid the barber and we all said goodbye to the barber and the man. I was resigned because I knew I had to do what my father thought was right. And so, what could be a long-haired future for me was over from the beginning...

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