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Change by Jajko

I grew up when it was modern for boys to have long hair. When I was 9, my mother died and we only stayed with my father. My father was modern and had an understanding for my long hair. I was proud that he didn't go to the ancient barber shop either, and his ears were covered in hair.
When I was 12, my father found his new wife Isabella, who soon moved in with us. One Saturday morning, Isabella told us we were going to the barber's with her. I said I would go to my modern hairdresser. Isabella told me emphatically that I would listen to her. My father told me it wouldn't be drastic and my hair would grow.
After breakfast we got dressed and all three went to the barber. We were approaching Richardson's barber shop. I panicked. This is the most dreaded barber for boys my age of obsolete barbershops. His clients are older and conservative men and little boys. My worries came true and we entered the Richardson barber shop. The barber shop was empty. We were greeted by an older barber. Isabella told the barber she wanted him to make us guys. His father sat in a chair first. Isabella said something to the barber and he started cutting his father. When my father left the barber's chair, he no longer had hair on his ears, but he had a short hairstyle that I was not used to with my father. Isabella took my hand tightly and pushed me into the barber's chair. When the barber wrapped me in a tarp, he asked: How do we cut a boy? Isabella pointed to a picture on the wall with the words: Cut it out like this. The barber said it was the best haircut for the boy. I didn't see the picture and I don't know what will be waiting for me. I was nervous and started biting my lip. As the barber combed my hair, he pushed my head forward, removed the electric scissors from the hook, and placed them around my neck. When they sounded, they were like a combine harvester rising from my neck to the top of my head. My first long hair fell on a sheet, which then slid to the ground. My stomach began to tear from my nervousness. That most of my hair was already on the sail and on the ground. The barber tilted his head to one side. He removed the hair from his ears in a few strokes and then did the same on the other side of his head. When I saw myself in the mirror, I still had long hair on top of my head. The barber took the comb, lifted my hair a little, and went through the electric scissors through my teeth, my hair falling to the ground. When he turned off the electric scissors and I had the opportunity to look in the mirror, I couldn't believe my eyes. There was only a small stubble of hair left on the sides of my head and I had about 3/8 long hair on the top of my head. Tears welled up in my eyes. When the barber untied the sail, I wanted to jump, but the barber held me back so I could still sit. He pulled the tarpaulin from my hair and wrapped it around me again. He mixed the foam with a brush in a bowl, in the back of the head and on the sides I felt warm water and then white foam. I started crying. The barber tilted his head to his side and gradually scraped the foam from my head with a razor blade. When he finished scraping the foam, he wiped the leftovers off my towel. He applied some cream to the remaining hair and combed it back. I saw myself in the mirror through my tears. I tilted my head slightly forward and saw a wheel of 3/8 inch long standing hair. It looked like a hedgehog. The barber asked Isabella if she was satisfied, and she praised his work. The barber stood behind me with a small mirror and showed me the back of my head and one side. I was shocked, but despite the tears, I only saw a smooth scalp. When I jumped out of the barber's chair, I thanked myself, probably because I was glad he finished my scalping. I've never had such short hair before.
As we were leaving the barber shop, my father told me not to cry for our hair to grow back. But Isabell has had my hair under control ever since.
I was the center of attention at school. Some regretted being at the Richardson barber shop, but most laughed at my new hairstyle.
Four weeks later, Isabeel took me to the Richardson barber again and I got the same hairstyle. Soon she was my new mom. My father no longer went to the barber with us, but he still had short hair.

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