From hairy to... by Storyteller

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It was 1977, and I had what an 11-year-old from that era could want when it came to hair. My parents allowed me to grow my hair as fashion dictated. I just had to obey my parents when they said it was time for me to go to the barbershop and get a haircut. I was an obedient son and had no problems with that.

When my hair was reaching my shoulders and my bangs were covering my eyes, my father gave me money and said it was time to go to the barbershop.

It was the beginning of the school year, and I was going to a new school where classes were in the afternoon, and I was used to having classes in the morning. With that, I took advantage of the free morning and went to the barbershop, which was very close to home. The barber was quite friendly and already knew that my cut was just a little trimming of the ends, and he knew my father too, so he knew my dad agreed with dad.

When I arrived at the barbershop, I noticed that the barber who was there was another one, I imagined that they worked different shifts, as I had never been there in the morning shift. I went in and said "Good morning, Sir" with respect because I didn’t know that barber. With a wide smile, he said to me "Good morning, kid" and started directing me to the barberchair.

Once I was sitting in the barberchair, he placed the cape around me with a neckstrip around my neck. He said, "I haven’t seen you here in a long time." I was surprised because I didn't remember meeting him and I was thinking 'did he give me a haircut when I was a little boy and I don't remember?', but I just smiled and nodded.

He didn't wait long, he grabbed his clippers and started running them on the top of my head, immediately leaving a trail of very short hair. I was scared and in a state of shock, not knowing what to say. He continued his work, without looking at me, saying "Let's fix this long hair again, as always". I realized then that there must have been a mistake. I looked at the damage that had already been done to my hair, I realized that there was no point in saying anything and I just smiled.

The barber continued running the clippers on top of my head, and I saw my long hair falling out and the trail of short hair that was opening wherever they went. While he was running the clippers, he was talking about random topics in such a way that it didn't make any difference for him to think I was another boy and I continued talking, being kind and polite.

When the top was finished, I looked like a clown with the long hair on the sides and back. He laughed and I smiled back at him. He then went behind the chair, pressed my head, and started running the clippers from nape to top. I saw that mountain of hair falling on the cape, in my lap. He said "That’s a lot of hair, huh, son? But you’re used to it." And so, he continued running the clippers, each pass was on the side of the previous one, removing my long hair on the back of my head.

When he rubbed the back of my head, it felt so strange, I had never had my hair so short. He then lifted my head and started to run clippers on the right side, from sideburns to top, and I could finally see that side of my head with just short hair. When he got close to my ear, he bent it to make it easier for the clippers to work around it, as my ear was very big I realized that it would be exposed for the first time after many years, he looked somewhat strange as he found my ear very big, but didn’t pay much attention to it and continued his work. As soon as he finished that side he went to the other side and did the same thing. And after a few passes my head was completely buzzed, with only short hair visible.

The barber ran his hand all over my head and, smiling, said "good boy, back to your baldy look for a while". I, trying to control myself so as not to show any reaction, just smiled. The barber passed a duster brush all over my head, going very vigorously around my ears, then he shook the cape and made all the hair fall to the floor. He opened the cape and motioned for me to get off the chair. I went down and he once again he put his hand on my head and said "Good boy, from hairy to..." he gave a break and said "Baldy", I smiled, paid and said "Thank you very much, Sir". I shook his hand and left the barbershop saying "Have a good day, Sir" he thanked me and we said goodbye.

I walked as quickly as possible the short way from the barbershop to the building where I lived and ran up the stairs, hoping I wouldn't run into anyone. Upon arriving home, my father immediately saw me and said in surprise "Wow, what happened at the barbershop?". I was completely speechless, even being my father, a huge shyness took over me and I didn't know what to say.
My father noticed my reaction, approached me, gave me a hug, rubbed my shorn head and said, "you don’t need to be embarrassed, it was a great choice you made, son, you look great like that", I was so relieved that I said, "Thank you, Dad." And he added, "Your choice of a new look to start at your new school was cool."

Only then did I realize that classes at the new school would start that afternoon, and I would look like that, a baldy, like the barber said. In fact, my hair was very short, like I had never had before, but it wasn't really bald, at the time I didn't know, I didn't know much about clippers, but it must have been a #1.

As I had nothing to do, I got ready to go to the first day at the new school and I would have to face the new group of classmates with that look. When I arrived at school, I was very nervous, in addition to all the anxiety that changing schools causes, I was still feeling completely strange about that haircut.

I soon discovered where my classroom was, I was the first to walk in, my classmates came in, I greeted them, over time, I didn't even remember about the haircut, I thought I had my hair as long as always. My colleagues weren't surprised either, they must have thought that was my usual style. The teachers also made no comment. And so, my first day of classes went smoothly, I made some friends, attended classes, and returned home peacefully.

Everything was fine in my family too; my father had already told everyone that I had 'chosen' a new look and everyone welcomed the idea and said that I looked great. I wasn't happy, actually, with the new haircut, but I didn't question it, I imagined that, with time, the hair would grow and everything would go back to normal.

When a month had passed since that unexpected haircut, one morning my father looked at me and said, "It's time for you to go back to the barbershop for your haircut, son", I felt a pang in my heart, but I didn't have the courage to go against my father, I took the money and said "Yes, dad" and went to the barbershop.

Because it was in the morning, it was the same barber who was there from the previous time. I walked in and said, "Good morning, Sir." He was very surprised and said "Good morning, kid, hey, did you come to get a haircut?" and I said "Yes, Sir" and he directed me to the barberchair and said "Aren’t you going to let it grow for a long time before you cut it again?" and I, already sitting in the barberchair, said "My father wants me to keep my bald cut, sir". He patted my shoulder, took the clippers, and said, "Ok then, bald it will be" and started running clippers on top of my head. Looking in the mirror I thought it was strange, because it seemed like it was getting shorter than the first time, real stubble, but I didn't say anything.

The barber did all the work very quickly, on top, back, sides, and little bristles were flying as the clippers passed by. And on my head only tiny stubbles were left, leaving, this time, an almost bald look. The barber finished, passed a duster brush all over my head, rubbed my head and said "as you asked, a baldy, this time with the zero blade to make it look bald like you asked". And I realized what had happened. I just smiled and said "Thank you very much, Sir" to the barber as he opened the cape for me to get out of the chair. I paid, said goodbye, and went home.

Arriving home, my new cut was a little surprising, but they didn't even comment on anything, they thought that having liked the shorter cut, I wanted to make it even shorter. And so, I was defining myself as the bald one, in the family, at school and at the barbershop, in a time when most kids had long hair.

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