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Mark by Som


Mark
Sorry for my weak English
I grew up when it was modern for boys to have long hair, at least to cover their ears and cover their shirt collars. My name is Frank and my parents had no problems with my modern hairstyle. My best friend and classmate, on the other hand, had a conservative and authoritative father who did not allow him to have long hair and went to an old-fashioned barber with him regularly. From about the age of 12, I realized that I was attracted and excited to see a cut Mark. I wanted to see his ancient barber cut his short hair. It was humiliating but also exciting for me. I often imagined seeing him in a barber's chair.
We were already 14 years old, I was at Mark's, we worked on school work. His father entered the room and said: Mark, we're going to the barber shop today. He tried to explain to him that we were working on school work, but his father replied that we would make it all and left the room. My heart was pounding, maybe I would have the opportunity to see him at the barber, as I had dreamed of for a long time. But Mark remained sad, I tried to encourage him that I couldn't imagine him with long hair at all and he wouldn't even like it. I don't know how long our conversation about his hair lasted when his father came into the room again and said they were going to the barber in 10 minutes. Mark said they were finishing work with me now and could go to the barber at other times. His father disagreed with his proposal and said: Frank, he can come in an hour and finish your job. I wouldn't see Mark in a barber's chair, so I said I could go with them and when we got back we'd finish school. His father agreed.
After about 10 minutes of driving, we got out in the parking lot of a nearby old-fashioned barber shop. There was an old man on the waiting chair when we entered the barber shop. I sat down next to Mark on a waiting chair. The barber was a slender gray man cut short in a white coat, I estimated him to be about 60 years old. The barber finished the haircut on the man in the chair and then cut the old man in line. When he said another: Mark went to sit in his chair. He looked like he was going to be executed. When the barber wrapped him in a tarp, did he ask his father how we cut a baby? His father replied: As always. I watched the barber carefully combing his hair, took the electric scissors, and began to cut Mark's hair. I was excited and tried to remember every barber's move. When the trimmed Mark jumped out of his chair, I waited for his father to replace him. But Mark's father grabbed me around the shoulders and told me to go and sit in the barber's chair. I was scared and didn't want to get a haircut. I said I didn't have the money to which Mark's father replied that he would pay for it. When the barber called another, Mark's father led me to the barber's chair. I just managed to tell him that I just wanted to cut back on what he smiled and replied so that I wouldn't be afraid and sat down. As I was wrapped in a sail the barber turned to Mark's father with the words: How do we cut a baby? He replied to give me a boyish haircut. I didn't understand it at all. The barber had already combed my hair, shaved my head forward, lifted the hair around my neck. I felt the cold metal of the teeth of electric scissors. As they resounded, they rose up the back of my head. The barber turned my head and I just saw my hair fall to the sail and to the ground. When he put his hand down from my head and I could look in the mirror I saw my hairless ears and on the sides of my head my hair was only about 3/8 inch. I had long hair on top of my head. But it didn't take long. The barber took the comb, began to lift them, and then walked the scissors along the comb. When I finished cutting the top of my head my hair was about 1a1 / 2 inches long. The barber took the finer scissors, bent my head forward again, and began to cut my hair from the neck up. When he put his head on my side, he shaved my ear and walked with them over my ear and I saw white skin. He did the same on the other side. My stomach began to tighten and the barber continued to cut. He made a path at the top and combed them on one side. He soaked my neck and over my ears and applied white cream, which he scraped off with a razor blade. He applied cream to his hair on his scalp and combed it. When he unwrapped me from the sail, he showed me the back of my head with a small mirror. Above the collar of the shirt, I saw about 2 inches of white leather that passed gradually to the top of the head. Even above my ears, I had about a 3/4 inch white strip of skin. My hairstyle was the same as Mark's. We both waited quietly for the barber to cut Mark's father. And I rubbed my neck.
When Mark and I finished school, I went home. My parents were surprised to see me cut. My father just asked where I got my money for a barber shop. I said Mark's father paid for it. Father said, let's go to Mark. I figured my angry father would tell Mark my father what he had done with my hair.
Upon coming to Mark, my father paid for my hair and began to thank his father for taking my haircut. He said he had long wanted me to get a haircut, but he was afraid I would start crying. Then Mark asked my father to take me to the barber again when Mark went to get a haircut. His father smiled and said that he would be happy to take me again in 4 weeks.
On the way home, I started begging my father not to go to the barber with Mark, that this is not a modern hairstyle. But your father insisted on his decision and just said: If it's a good hairstyle for Mark, it will be good for you too.
Our hair grew slowly, I didn't pay attention to how long it was since the haircut. Just one night, Mark came to us and told my father we were going to the barber tomorrow. My father gave me money, I tried to convince him that I didn't even have hair on my ears yet.
The next day, Mark and his father and I sat at the barber again to get new short hairstyles. It took slowly 3 years, every 4 weeks.




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