The eye problem and the bangs. by Storyteller

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When I was a kid in the 70's, I had shoulder-length hair, totally covering my ears, and the bangs were really long and they kept falling in front of my eyes and I would throw them to the side. My parents allowed me to wear my hair the way I wanted from the age of 8, as long as I kept going to the barbershop on a certain basis, which I did, sometimes trying to extend the time between cuts.
I was a dedicated son, respectful and obedient to my parents, and also a very good student, always friendly with the teachers.

When I was 13 years old, an optician came to our class to give free eye exams to students. We all took the test and at the end she handed out a sheet with recommendations for those who didn't wear glasses yet but had a vision problem. In my case, she delivered the result indicating that I needed to go to the eye doctor and I should wear glasses, and she even commented "the bangs in the eyes are not good for your vision" and I kindly said "thank you, Madam", but I was not happy with that comment about my bangs.
When I got home I showed my parents the result, but conveniently I didn't mention the comment about the bangs. My dad said he was going to make an appointment with the doctor as soon as possible and I nodded.

He was very agile and the next day we were already going to a doctor's office downtown. I wasn't very happy with the idea of wearing glasses, but when we passed in front of a store I liked some of the modern frames I saw and I asked my dad if we could go there later to choose frames for my glasses and he said "yes, it will be good to provide immediately".
The doctor was very nice, he said I was a very polite boy, and he did all the tests on my eyes, he found that I needed to wear glasses and handed the prescription to my father and, like the lady at school, he smiled and said "and that fringe of yours, son, it gets in the way of your vision" to which I, smiling sheepishly, quickly tossed the fringe to the side like I always did. My dad kept quiet and took the prescription.

As we left the office my father said "We'll get your glasses soon, son", and I smiled and said "Yes, Sir" with respect as I always spoke to my father. On the way from the office to the store, we passed in front of a barbershop, very old-fashioned, there was only one barber inside and he had no customers at the time. My dad then said "let's take the opportunity and the barber can solve the problem the doctor said about your bangs", smiling, with no sign of being angry, and I said "oh, it's true, it's fine, dad".

So, we entered the barbershop and the barber welcomed us kindly "Good afternoon, how can I help you?" I respectfully said "Good afternoon, Sir" and my father said "It's for my son, a cut". The barber smiled and pointed to the barber chair and I sat down. He placed the cape carefully around me, taking care that my long hair didn't get caught inside it, and placed a neckstrip around my neck.
The barber asked me "how do we do it?" and I looked at my dad, the barber looked at my dad too and said "what do we do for the boy?" My father said "his bangs are causing problem to his eyesight, we need to get rid of this problem" and then he said "I need to solve some things at the bank, across the street, as soon as I can I'll come back here, ok?", I said "Yes, Sir" and the barber said "OK"

The barber then smiled at me and I smiled back. He then combed all my hair and the long fringe blocked my entire view. He took the scissors and said "Let's get rid of the problem as your father wants" and started to cut the bangs, I felt the metal of the scissors touching my forehead, and it seemed to be at a point far above where my regular barber usually cuts. The scissors went crunch crunch crunch battling the thick mass of hair in my fringe. And so he went with those scissors, carefully and millimetrically cutting the bangs, I tried to look up because I felt that he was cutting too high, but it was impossible and he was in front of me and I couldn't see the mirror.

When he finished, he stepped out of the way and said: "Done, boy, free of the fringe problem" and I could see the mirror. He had cut my bangs practically at my hairline. I looked in the mirror and I looked ridiculous, with no bangs and the rest of my hair full and long. I kept looking at the barber waiting for him to continue the cut, but he started to approach as if to remove the cape.
I said "Are you ready yet? Is that all the cut?" and the barber said "That's what your father asked for" and then asked "Would you like me to cut more?" I said "Won't it cost more for my dad?" and the barber said "No, it will cost the price of a normal cut" and I said "Then, please I would like it"
He smiled and said "You really are a good boy" and asked "What do you want me to do?". I had no idea what a cut could look like under those conditions, and, in fact, I didn't even know the name of a cut because at my usual barber I usually just asked to 'take a little off', so I said "hmmm, Sir , I don't know what to ask you" and he said "Would you like me to do what I think is appropriate?" and I smiled and said "Yes sir"

He then promptly took out his clippers, put on a #4 (which I had no idea what was about by then), plugged it in, held my head tight and immediately started running them on top of my head. I started, for the first time in my life, hearing that noise and feeling the trepidation of the clippers running over my head and, immediately, I saw my hair falling like a waterfall.
After that first pass, he looked at himself with a look of disagreement and told me "Son, 4 won't be enough, and 3 probably won't either, we'll have to try 2", I, not knowing what he was talking, smiled and said "Okay, you know what you're doing, Sir" and he said "Good boy". He then switched #4 to #2 and resumed running clippers on top of my head. Something I noticed right away was that the noise made by the clippers running through already cut hair was very different from when running through hair that was still long. With a few swipes he reduced all the hair on top to #2.

Then he went behind the chair and forced my head down, making my chin touch my chest very firmly, he then changed the #2 to #00000 and started running clippers on the back from nape to crown. I felt the metal vibrate in my head and saw the hair spilling out in front of me, falling onto the cover, onto my lap and onto the floor.
While he was running the clippers with my head down he was talking to me, he said he had a great impression of me, he said he had never seen a boy, my age, so respectful to his own father and the barber, and he was impressed that I worried what the cut would cost to my father. He also said that he was happy doing the cut as he was sure it would be the most suitable cut for a guy like me. I was sure he was getting an extremely short cut, which none of my buds had, but I, a little unable to speak with my chin pressed down, stammered "thank you very much, Sir" to be kind and in appreciation for what he had done.

He then, having run clippers all over the back, lifted my head a little and moved it slightly to the side, and began to run clippers ne from sideburns to crown, with the hair quickly falling to the side. He controlled my ear as he passed the clippers around it.
After that he switched sides and tilted my head moving to the other side and started doing the same process there. At this moment I was looking at the barbershop door and saw my father entering. My father looked around, looked at the chair and said to the barber "Where is my son?" and I said "I'm here, dad".

My father was startled, his eyes almost popped out of his head and he said "What happened?" and I said "I asked the barber to cut more" And he went to sit down and said "Well... if you want". The barber then put my head straight again and was putting the final touches, especially to fade the sides and back with the top. While he was doing that he said to my father "You must be proud of your son, what a polite boy" He smiled and thanked the barber and I did the same.

The barber finished the cut, used a brush to dust my head, shook the cape, and finally said "you can leave the chair now," after showing the cut from all angles in a hand mirror. I thanked him and politely got off the chair. My father paid the cut and thanked him.
When leaving the barbershop my father said "Now let's choose the glasses" and I said "Yes, Sir" thinking that probably the modern frames I had thought of would no longer match my style...

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