My dad likes my long hair by Storyteller

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As I grew up in the 1970s, as soon as I turned 8, my father started allowing me to have long hair, according to the fashion of the time, if I went to the barbershop to get a haircut regularly, kept my hair clean and combed, and behaved well.

I met all these requirements; I was always a good boy and treated adults with respect. When I was 13, at the end of winter, my hair was reaching my shoulders, my bangs reached my lips if I didn't comb them to the side, and my ears, which were huge and protruding, hadn't been uncovered for many years.

The barbershop I went to had only one barber, a man in his early 60s, who treated me in a friendly way and only cut a little bit of my hair each time, as I requested.
As happened a lot at that time, that barbershop, like so many others, was a meeting point for adult men who, even if they weren't in need of a haircut, would stop by to chat a little about different topics.

Although I understood that my father didn't see any problems with my long hair and even liked it because he had gotten used to me having it for so many years, as my hair was already quite long I decided it was a good idea to go to the barbershop, before the length of my hair could cause any problems.

The barbershop, simple, old, cozy, had a very old barber chair and a small sofa and some waiting chairs. There were some products and equipment, like clippers, that I never saw being used at that time. It was located very close to the building where I lived, so within a few minutes I was there.

Upon arriving, I politely greeted the barber and a man, who was just there talking to the barber. "Good morning, Sir", "Good morning, Sir", to each of them. Even though I knew the man wasn't there for a haircut, I sat on the couch waiting. The barber smiled and said, "It’s your turn, son, you can go to the barber chair".

I smiled and went to the barber chair and sat down. The barber placed an old blue fabric cape, fastened with a safety pin around me and a white tissue around my neck, taking great care to ensure that my long hair didn't get caught inside. He combed my hair, praised it for being clean and well taken care of and said, "How do we do it, son?" and I replied, "The usual, Sir, just a little off all around".
He took scissors and a comb from the pocket in his smock and began to cut some of the hair around, while talking to the man standing there. The man began to comment on how he thought it was wrong for young people to defy their parents and wear long hair. I realized it was about me, but I stayed quiet without interfering in their conversation.

The man insisted on the matter and said to me "You, young man, I'm sure your father doesn't agree with this long hair style you wear." I swallowed hard and remained quiet, but he insisted. "Tell me, boy, isn’t that true?" When he insisted, I said "Sorry, Sir, but my dad likes my hair like that" trying to be as polite as possible. The man insisted "I don’t believe that. No parent would want to see their child with hair like that". I said, "Sorry, Sir, but my dad likes it."

I looked at the barber and said "My father is a friend of the barber, he can confirm. Isn’t that true, Mr. Barber?" The barber avoided saying anything. But I insisted "Isn’t it true, Sir?" He then said "Well, actually, your father doesn’t like it, he just accepts it". The man smiled and said "See? I said it" And I lost my composure and said angrily "That’s not true, don’t you know that my father likes my hair like that?" The barber stayed quiet, tried to change the subject, and continued trimming my hair as little as he always did. The man said he had things to do, excused himself and left. I, returning to my polite attitude, said "See you later, Sir" to him.

A few minutes later, my father was passing by the barbershop, saw me, and said "Hi, son, getting a trim?" I smiled and said "Yes, Dad." And I took advantage and asked "Dad, you like my long hair, right?" And he said, "I don't like it, I just accept it, if it were up to me, you would wear your hair really short, but as fashion is for long hair and you always take care of it and behave well, I accept it like this" I swallowed and said, "Thanks for answering, dad" and he continued on his way home.

The barber smiled and said, "It’s a good thing your father didn’t say that in front of that other man, right, son?" and showed me the cut that was complete. I was very embarrassed and feeling guilty for doubting the barber who was always so kind and friendly to me.

He asked, "Is the cut good, son?" showing with a hand mirror from behind the chair. I lowered my head and said "Yes, the cut is fine, Sir, but…" I swallowed and said "…I was rude to you and to that other man, and my father said he accepts I have long hair if I am well-mannered, then I think you can cut my hair short."

The barber looked at me with compassion and said "Are you sure, son? I think it's not necessary" I raised my head, embarrassed, and said, "I think it is, Sir, you can cut it short". He said "Okay" and started cutting, with the scissors and comb, first he cut around the ears, my big, protruding ears started to appear, and large strands of hair were falling out. Then he started cutting the long hair on the back.

I watched in the mirror, sad, as my hair was cut short, knowing that it would be completely out of fashion. But I looked at the barber and said, "Sir, not that I want to criticize your work, but I think when my dad said he wanted it to be really short, it was shorter than that." The barber stopped, put the scissors in his pocket and said "Ah, yes, son".

He took his clippers. For the first time, I saw him take them, he put on a #4 attachment and turned them on, starting to run them on the back of my head, then on the side, leaving my ears even more exposed, and he commented "So, I think your father will like it, son", smiling.

I looked and said, "Sir, I want my father to be pleased with my cut, but I also think you have the right to decide what my cut should look like, knowing that I was rude and disrespected you."

He didn't say anything else; he took out attachment #4, left clippers at 0, put them under my bangs, turned them on and I just heard that buzzing sound and felt the metal of the blade running over the top of my head. When I looked in the mirror, I started to see the contrast that was appearing on the top of my head. I swallowed hard, became very serious and didn't say anything.

The barber also continued seriously with his work and in just a few strokes my head, on top, was stubbly. Then he pressed my head firmly, my chin against my chest and said, "Steady there, kid" and started to run clippers from nape up. The hair, which was already shorter in that part, fell in front of me. Every now and then I felt his hand passing on my head, touching my scalp.

When this part was ready, he lifted my head and turned it to one side and started running clippers on that side, moving his finger to pull my ear to buzz around it. And then the same thing on the other side. He then straightened my head, and I could see, in the mirror, my entire head stubbly, like I had seen some boys, usually the ones who received some type of punishment.

The barber turned off the clippers and said "I’m not done yet" and grabbed an electric razor. He said "as you are still a little boy, I cannot use a razor and foam to shave you, but I will use the razor, we will not shave your whole head, but the sides and back, yes", I resignedly said "Yes, Sir " and he said, "and what else, son?" and I said "Thank you, Sir"

He turned on the shaver and started going over the entire back and sides. It was a very good shaver; it left that part as if it had been shaved by a razor. Finally, he finished, showed me everything with the mirror and said "OK, son, I think this is now a suitable cut" and I said, "Thank you very much, Sir". He shook and took off the cape and said, "you can get off the chair, son".

I got out of the chair, took the money my father had given me for the cut and asked, "how much does a cut cost, Sir?" He told me and I paid. He thanked. I then took some money that I had earned as an allowance and said, "here it is, Sir, for the second cut you had to make". And he started to say he didn't need to, but then he looked at me seriously and said, "Thank you very much, son, you're learning to be a good boy." And rubbed my head. I thanked, said goodbye and went home.

As I had to go to school soon, I didn't get to meet my father and went to school. At school it was a torture, all the boys made fun of my hair, my ears and my white scalp. They gave me nicknames like Big Ear, Military Kid, White Head and they played by flicking my ears.

In addition to being sad because I didn't like my hair like that and I liked my hair long, I started to suffer bullying that I had never experienced before.

When I came back from school my father saw me and was very surprised by my haircut. He immediately remembered what had happened when he passed by the barbershop and said "Son, you didn't need to cut your hair like that just because of what I said" and I lowered my head and said "Dad, I'm sorry, it wasn't just that, I was disrespectful to the barber and a man who was there before you passed by and I responded rudely to the barber because he said you didn’t like my long hair." My father caressed my shorn head and said "Yeah, son, you really needed a lesson" and said "If you think it’s right, go back there next week and ask the barber to give you this cut again and so on until you feel like you really learned your lesson" I looked at my father and said "yes, sir" and didn't comment on the teasing at school so as not to upset him.

The following week I went to the barbershop, the barber saw me surprised and I said, "Good morning, Sir, I need the same cut again". He smiled, I went to the barber chair and the story continued.

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