Russell at training by strictsir

---

I had a wonderful childhood. Growing up in the 70s was wonderful. We would go in for sports with our friends, swim in the nearby river in the summer. We also enjoyed modest gifts. Those were very good times, despite the fact that children were required to be strict in schools and in many families. Boys did not like the word: barber. Most boys at that time had long hair, covering their ears and reaching over the collar of their shirts. But there were also those who had short unfashionable hairstyles.
I have worn my hair longer since I was little. At first I went with my father to a modern Unisex barbershop, but from about the age of 11 I started going for a haircut. When my parents thought that my hair needed a haircut. They said: Dario, your hair needs a haircut and I got money for it. Even though it was 4-6 times a year, I didn't like the fact that they cut my long hair at the modern barbershop.
It was 1973, when I was 13 years old. There were 21 boys in our class, but only 6 boys had short hair. Of those, 4 went to the old-fashioned barbershops regularly. There were 21 boys in our class, but only 6 boys had short hair. Of those, 4 went to the old-fashioned barbershops regularly. At very short intervals. On Friday, Russell, a year older than me, came to football practice with a very short new haircut. It was a contrast of short black hair and white skin around his ears and part of the nape of his neck. I had always seen him with relatively long hair, but never with such short hair, not even his younger brother. I was very excited about his new haircut.
I really wanted to know why he had such a short haircut. On the way home from training, I went to him and struck up a friendly conversation. Then I asked him why he had such short hair. My question was uncomfortable for him, so he just quietly answered: You know, my father took me and my brother to the cheap and very feared Marschall barbershop.
After coming home from training, I took a bath. I couldn't forget Russel's new short haircut. In front of the mirror, I combed my wet long hair so that I could see my ears and imagined what it would be like if I had short hair too. Such an idea began to excite me, but at the same time I was afraid of the reaction of the other kids, that they would make fun of each other, just like I had seen at the beginning of training when Russell arrived.
In the evening, I told my father that my teammate had come to training with a haircut. I told him that he had long hair and he had come to training with short hair. I made up a story that his father had invited him and his younger brother to get a haircut at the Marschall barbershop for not tidying up their room, and I started laughing. My father just said it was a good punishment for lazy boys.
On Sunday we had a friendly match between the students. My father was there to support us. After the match, Russell showed his father his new haircut. His father smiled and said: He looks much better this way. Dario, you would look smart with short hair too. I was happy with my father's suggestion in my mind, but I was very afraid to implement it, so I shouted: I never want short hair.
On Monday evening, my mother said that we had received an invitation from my grandparents for their 40th wedding anniversary on Saturday. They were celebrating their ruby wedding. And she gave me money to go to the Unisex Modern Barbershop to get my hair done the next day. I didn't want to get a haircut yet. On Wednesday, my father asked me when I was going to get a haircut, but I started to negotiate that it had been about 2 months since my last visit to the modern barbershop, that I would get a haircut at the beginning of the holidays, which would be in a month. But my father did not agree with my proposal and insisted that I go to the Unisex barbershop.
On Friday, after returning from training, my father started to get angry that I had not been to the Unisex Modern Barbershop. He told me to wait for him by the car. When we got into the car, I asked where we were going. My father replied that I was going to get a haircut. I said that my modern barbershop was about a 5-minute walk away and that I could go there myself. But my father ordered: get in the car.
When we started driving, I did not understand why we were going in a different direction than my modern unisex barbershop. After about 10 minutes of driving, we entered a street with small shops. He was driving slowly, as if he was looking for something. On the right side, in the distance, I saw a twisting pole, marking the Marschall barbershop. My stomach clenched. I was excited, but the fear was much greater. When we stopped in front of the barbershop, my father ordered me to get out. I could barely get the word NO out of my throat.
We entered the barbershop. The barber was a tall, slim man with a short haircut and was about 50 years old. On a high wooden chair sat a small boy of about 7 years old with short hair. The father approached the barber and said to him: Can I leave my son Dario here for a haircut? The barber looked at me and asked the father. How should I cut your son's hair. The father pointed to the boy sitting on the high wooden chair. Just like this boy. The barber smiled and said, boy, sit on the waiting chairs until it's your turn. A voice came from the waiting chair. Dario, come sit here. It was Luis, a boy from my class who regularly goes with a short haircut. Even now, before the haircut, he has about 7 centimeters of hair on the top of his head and about a centimeter on the back of his head. He was in the barbershop with his father and 10-year-old brother Joe.
Before I sat down, I saw the barber tilt the little boy's head forward and start cutting the short hair on the back of his head. Then I had a bad view of the boy and Luis kept talking about how he didn't know that I also went to the Marschall barbershop, what kind of haircut I would have. He said how he and his brother go to the barbershop every 3 weeks, and which boys from school also go to the Marschall barbershop. I wanted to know how the boy would be cut, because I was going to get a similar haircut. For just a few seconds I saw the barber apply white foam over the boy's ear and Luis talked to me again and I focused on my classmate.
When the barber called another one, the old man got up and sat in the barber's chair. The little boy was already leaving the barbershop ahead of his mother. I regretted not seeing his haircut.
Soon Luis was called to the barber's chair. The barber started to cut the back of his head, then the sides and later the hair on the top of his head. Before finishing around the ear and part of the back of his head, he applied white foam, which he finally scraped off. He applied greasy cream to his hair and combed his hair to one side. Luis had about 6 centimeters of hair combed to the side on the top of his head, 3 centimeters of white arches above his ears and about 7 centimeters of shaved nape of his shirt on the back of his head.
His younger brother Joe also got a similar haircut. They were similar haircuts to Russell's, but their brown hair didn't contrast as much with the white shaved part of his head. Luis asked his father if he could stay in the barbershop until the barber cut his school friend Dario's hair and then we would go home together. His father agreed. But I felt embarrassed that Luis would see me getting scalped.
When the barber called the boy down, sit down here! My legs went numb and I went to his chair, where he had put two pads so that I was higher. He put a white sheet around me and tied it tightly around my neck. He combed my long hair, which reached almost to my shoulders, my bangs were to the tip of my nose and my ears were covered.
When the barber bent my head forward, he placed an electric clipper under the hair on my neck and, after lowering it, began to climb the back of my head. The first 25 centimeters of hair fell onto the sheet and into my lap. The barber continued cutting, and more and more of my long hair appeared on the sheet and the ground. Then he cut the hair on both sides of my head. In the mirror, I saw Luis laughing at my scalping. He put a comb on the top of my head and ran the clipper over the comb. The first hair from the top of my head began to fall into my lap. When the barber finished cutting, he combed my hair forward and cut my bangs straight, high above my eyebrows. He used a brush to remove the cut hair from the sheet around my neck and shoulders. He took a fine-toothed clipper and began to cut short hair on both sides of my head and the back of my head. He made a transition between the remaining very short hair on the sides and the back of my head with about 2 centimeters of hair on the top of my head. The barber wet the back of my head and the sides of my head, and in a small bowl he began to make white foam with a brush, which he applied to the parts of my head that he wanted to shave smoothly. On the side of the barber's chair he had a thick leather belt on which he sharpened his razor, with which he then scraped the foam from my head. I felt a great excitement in my crotch and I was afraid that it would be visible when I got up from the chair. The barber applied a greasy cream to the top of my head and combed my hair forward, and on the back of my head and sides he put a smelling cologne that cooled me very much. I was finally free to leave the barber's chair. I started to run my hands through the hair above my ears and the back of my neck, but instead I only felt smooth skin.
I paid the barber for the haircut and thanked him out of politeness. The barber handed me a piece of paper to give to my father.
In front of the barbershop, Luis laughed at me for having shorter hair than him. He said he hadn't had a haircut that short in about 5 years. He put his finger on the top of my head and said: I have shaved the back of my head about this far. Then I felt his finger on the top of my head and said, you have it almost completely shaved. About 2 centimeters from the top of your head you have a small stubble. Around your ears you have about 6 centimeters of cleanly shaved skin. Luis had 3-centimeter white arches around his ears.
At home, my parents were surprised at first but then they praised the barber's work. I gave my father the note from the barber. He read it, smiled and then gave it to me. The note said: Lord, don't let your son grow such long hair. Boys usually come to me for a haircut every 3 or 4 weeks. Some come to me after 2 weeks. The boy's hair shouldn't have grown more than 2 centimeters, which is about 6 weeks. My father asked me how often I wanted to get a decent haircut? At the thought of another visit to the Marschall barbershop, I felt my cheeks turn red and I felt intense excitement in my crotch.
I got my first taunts from the children in the family at my grandparents' party, later it was also at school. Only my grandfather praised my parents for having a decent and intelligent haircut and asked them to keep this trend of my short hair in the future.
It was very irritating to rub the back of my head after 4 days, where the sharp stubble of about 2 millimeters gently irritated my palms. Besides, the short haircut had its advantages, I didn't need to comb my hair all the time, I didn't have a problem with my hair when washing my head and especially when doing sports, sweaty hair didn't stick to my neck, forehead or cheeks. But despite all these advantages, I wasn't interested in visiting Marschall's barbershop again. The taunts from the kids were much worse.

---