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A Hundred More Butches - Part 2 by Butchme

I have a little continuation of Part One. It's Important. HERE GOES!


I was in the fifth grade. I had a "grown out" butch. I was supposed to get a haircut after school. I walked downtown and entered Bill's Barbershop. He summoned me into the chair. I was very nervous. I told him to just clip around the edges, I was going to let my hair grow out. So, he did just that. Then he took a big glob of thick, white goop out of the jar and massaged into my hair. It was standing straight up! Then he tried to straight part it on the left. He tried to comb the rest of the hair down but it had been in a butch so long that all it wanted to do was stand up. He tried to pat it down as best he could. It wasn't working but I insisted he leave it alone.

I paid him and went out the door. I hoped no one would see me with my greased hair standing up. Dad and I were headed to the church supper. I was anxious about what he'd say about the haircut.

I sneaked in the back door. He came into the kitchen and said, "What's with the hair"? I told him I was 'growing it out'. He said, "come in the bathroom." I did. He then put a lot of Vitalis on my hair and tried to comb it down. It didn't stay. He said "We are late to the church supper, let's go." My mother was already there.

On the way we took a different turn and ended on Main Street. I wondered why? We pulled into a parking place in front of Bill's. I was almost sick to my stomach.

We went in and Dad told Bill, "Fix this haircut please. Cut this mess down into his regular short butch". So Bill cut down my greasy hair VERY short. I guess he wanted Dad to get his money's worth. The whole time Dad was standing beside the chair. I was embarrassed. Bill then greased it up more and pushed it back. This made my fringe stand straight up! He then took barber shears and cut it straight off. Then he did it again cutting it quite short. Chunks of greasy, dark hair fell into the cape. He then pushed my hair back and up.

I Knew the haircut was over. He turned me around. I saw in the mirror how SHORT it was. Dad and Bill were beaming! Dad tried to pay Bill again. He said "you've already paid for this haircut". He paid him anyway.

Sadly I knew this butch was for good. There would be no growing it out. I was so disappointed.

We got in the car and Dad said, "Don't ever get your hair cut like that again. You will keep getting a short butch. I decide how your hair will be cut, Is that understood?" "Yes," I said.

So we went to the church supper. I dreaded going in with a fresh, short butch, waxed and standing straight up.

We went in and I had to sit with some older boys. They were looking at my skinned head and laughing. All of them had longer hair. I wanted to crawl under the table. And that is it till Part II.


It was the middle of eighth grade and I had to go to school with a short butch. For some reason Bill had skinned me good.

Nobody said anything until the girl in the desk in front of me reached back and rubbed my stubble. Then she laughed. I decided then and there I would grow out my hair no matter what.

When I needed a haircut again I told my folks I was growing out my hair. I was the only boy in my class with a butch. It was 1970! They said I could try it.

I told Bill, "Just clip around the edges". I think he thought, "Here we go again". He cut around the edges, then plastered my hair down with goop, parted it and tried to comb it.

I went home and my hair would not stay down. My dad said, "No, you can't have your hair like that". I said, "It's my hair and I won't get another butch".

I went to school with grease in my hair, side parted, this time on the right, most of it standing up.

Every day my hair got longer. It didn't want to lay down, even with grease. Again my folks said "You have to get a butch after school". I said, "No way, no butch".

I came up with a solution. I took one of my Mom's nylons, (in those days, one for each leg, no pantyhose). I cut it in thirds, knotted one section, forming a tight cap. Then cut the slack off.

I wore this during the night, holding my hair down. Eventually my hair laid down! I still greased it up before school. I liked doing that and having hair to comb. I liked having hair period.

When I got my hair cut at Bill's he always massaged it with a glob of white, greasy goop. This was followed by a severe side parting and combed in a short pomp.

I started high school letting Bill keep greasing my hair. I then decided I wanted to leave it dry. The other boys had been doing that for quite a while. I guess I was still worried about it staying down. There were three barbers in town. One was called Celston. He had starting what he called "styling". It really wasn't but it increased his business. I wanted to go to him. It took me a while but I finally decided I'd go to him. My last haircut at Bill's he wanted to oil it up. I told him I didn't want grease in my hair. He looked at me strangely.

The next time I needed a haircut I got up the nerve to go to Celston. He had noisy Oster clippers which really worked better. Bill's vibrating ones just quietly buzzed. Celston used scissors on my hair, something new to me. And he used a vacuum after the haircut.

He then asked me if I was in high school. I said, "Yes, I was." Then he whipped up some shaving cream in a cup, used a shaving brush to lather up around my ears and the edges of my neck. The lather was warm. He took the straight razor, stropped it and shaved me. There was a man waiting who was watching me. My face and neck turned warm and bright red. I was not ready for this. I was embarrassed. He must have noticed because he never used the razor on me again.

Eventually I grew my hair over my ears and found a "stylist" in another town.

My Dad still went to Bill's. One day Bill asked him what happened to me. Dad said I was going someplace else. Bill said, "I can cut long hairs too". My Dad told me what he said and I said, "Yes, he can cut long hairs but he cuts them all off".


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