Stepmother Katie by Jarino

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Excuse my poor English, it's not my native language.
My name is Jasper. I was born in 1961. My mother died when I was 8 years old. Then I lived only with my father. At that time, it was fashionable for boys to have long hair. My father understood modern hairstyles for boys and took me to a modern unisex barbershop. Later, when I was 11 years old, I went alone to a unisex barbershop for a small haircut, because if I saw that my father went to the barbershop with a boy my age, it was humiliating for the boy.
I was already 13 years old when my father brought Mrs. Katie home. She was pretty, kind and intelligent. She loved me and started taking good care of me. The only thing I didn't like about her was that she didn't approve of my long hair. She always told my father: take Jasper to barber. I then had to go to the Unisex barbershop for a little haircut.
It was Friday and my stepmother Katie and I went into town to buy me some new clothes. After the shop we went to a nearby pastry shop for dessert. When we entered the pastry shop, I saw a boy from school who was a year younger than me and his mother. His name was Pete, who had just had a short haircut. A few small hairs were stuck to his sweaty neck. The shaved part of his neck was white. I felt sorry for him not only for his unfashionable short haircut, but also for the fact that at his age his mother was accompanying him to the barbershop. That must be very unpleasant and humiliating. Stepmother Katie also noticed him and came to their table and praised his haircut a lot. Pete started to blush and it was obvious that he was embarrassed. Katie bought some desserts and we sat down at Pete's table. Stepmother Katie praised Pete that his haircut was very smart, but she didn't know which barber would be right for me good. I felt myself blushing with shame now. Pete's mother said that she goes to work one morning and one afternoon. So every other Friday, Pete waits for her to come home from work and they go to Mr. Brown's for a new haircut. I realized that I had never seen Pete with his hair touching the tips of his ears. Pete's mother gave us directions to Mr. Brown's barber shop. It's only a 5-minute drive, at the next intersection we'll turn right and then left and we'll see a spinning barber pole.
When we finished our desserts, Pete's mother said: we have Mr. Brown's barber shop on our way home, we can take you there. Stepmother Katie agreed and my knees started to shake with fear.
When we entered the barber shop, Mr. Brown was surprised to see Pete and his mother. But she quickly said: We brought Mrs. Katie and her son Jasper, who needs a smart haircut like Pete's. Then they said goodbye to us. The barber smiled and pointed to the waiting chairs for us to sit down.
Mr. Brown was an old man of medium height in a long white coat with short gray hair. I was also disappointed with the barbershop because it looked very outdated, there was only one barbershop chair and about 10 wooden waiting chairs. There were yellowed pictures on the walls with photos of boys and men with short unfashionable haircuts. Several old men were sitting on the waiting chairs. I quietly begged my stepmother Katie to leave this barbershop and go to the Unisex Barbershop but Katie did not agree and we waited until Mr. Brown called: Come sit here boy and added 3 pads to the seat of his barber chair. I tried one last time to convince my stepmother Katie to leave quickly, but she insisted on my haircut. I was very scared. My legs were shaking and my stomach was sick with fear squeezed.
Mr. Brown wrapped me in a white sheet, which he pulled tightly around my neck and pumped up the chair to make me higher. I felt like I was about to be executed in the electric chair. The barber asked Katie: Do I cut a boy's hair like Pete? Katie nodded in agreement. Then the barber added that Pete first came to him when he was 5 years old and that he had been cutting him every other Friday since then. He immediately suggested to Katie that I go for a two-week haircut and not let my hair grow as long as it is now. The barber was already pushing my head forward. He lowered the electric clippers and began cutting my hair from the nape of my neck to the crown of my head. The first about 9 inches of cut hair appeared on the sheet. Later, he tilted my head to one side and cut the hair on the side. I could see my ear without hair. Only 3/8 inch of short hair remained on the side. The barber did the same on the other side of my head. The only long hair was on the top of my head. The barber changed his clippers. He tilted my head back, placed the scissors on my forehead, and cut the hair on the top of my head. When he finished cutting the top of my head, I could only see 5/8 of the hair. He cut my bangs very high above my eyebrows. He brushed the rest of the hair off the sheet. He took a pair of fine-toothed scissors, placed them on my temple bone, bent my ear, and ran them over my ear to the nape of my neck, where only 1/100 of an inch of stubble remained. He did the same on the other side of my head. He tilted my head forward again and cut part of the nape of my neck. Finally, he gave me a short haircut from the stubble to 5/8 of an inch on the top of my head. When he was finished, he released the sheet, which he brushed off the remaining hair and stubble. I quickly jumped out of his chair, but Mr. Brown ordered me to sit back down. The barber's office was filled with laughter from the men waiting to be cut. I was wrapped in the sheet again, the barber lathered the nape of my neck and sides with lather. He sharpened his razor on a leather belt and began to shave my head gradually. After scraping off the lather, only white bare skin remained on my head. When the shave was finished, Mr. Brown wiped the remnants of the lather into a towel. He asked his stepmother Klára if she was satisfied with my haircut or if she should continue with the haircut. She said that my new hairstyle was very nice. The barber applied a greasy cream to the top of my head and combed my hair short forward. He applied smelly cologne to the sides of my head and the back of my head, which stung unpleasantly. The barber loosened the sheet from me, I turned my head and saw that 1/2 of the side of my head was cleanly shaved and then there was a transition to short hair on the top of my head. I reached for the back of my head with my hands, but instead of beautiful hair I could only feel smooth skin. The barber was already standing behind me with a small mirror and I saw that 3/4 of the back of my head was hairless and cleanly shaved white skin. The rest of the back of my head was just with a gradual stubble towards the top of my head. I had never had a haircut this short before in my life.
20 minutes ago I sat in this barber's chair with beautiful long hair and now here sits a scared child with a small head and a short haircut.
My stepmother paid for my haircut. On the way home she praised my smart haircut and tears were streaming down my cheeks. My tiny cropped hair fell under my shirt and it was incredibly irritating on my back. I couldn't wait to get home.
At home, my father disappointed me because he praised Katie for taking me to the barbershop. But I'm sure that was the last time I got a haircut at an old-fashioned barbershop.
At school, my classmates had the exact opposite opinion of my new haircut. I was the
center of ridicule. About 3 days later, my classmate Stenly, who had conservative parents and went to an old-fashioned barbershop, came in with a haircut. But he didn't have the nape of his neck shaved as high as I did.

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My hair was slowly growing back, and the shaved areas on the back of my head and sides were covered with about a quarter of an inch of hair. It was Friday, and I wanted to take advantage of not having to get ready for school the next day and go to the playground with my friends. My stepmom Katie told me after she got home from work that we were going shopping. On the way, I found out that we were going to Mr. Brown's barbershop. I started begging her that I didn't want to go there because Mr. Brown did unfashionable haircuts. I even got down on my knees, but I didn't have a chance to convince her. Her answer was brief: Pete has been going there for years, every other week, and he looks very smart.
We hadn't even sat down in the waiting chairs at the barbershop when Pete and his mother arrived. She was happy to see us there and sat down next to Katie. They immediately started talking. Pete sat down next to me. He started asking me how I felt about my short hair. Then he asked me if I had thanked the barber loudly enough for the haircut. I shook my head, "No, you should have," Pete said. "He expects boys to do that." After half an hour, I was sitting in the barber's chair. I felt like a prisoner when I was wrapped in a sheet. My stepmom Katie had approved my haircut, which I had gotten two weeks ago. The barber started cutting the hair on the top of my head, leaving a quarter of my hair short on the sheet. He then cut the sides of my head around my ears, leaving only a 1/100th of an inch of stubble. He continued to trim the remaining short hair on my sides and the back of my head. He shaved three-quarters of my head and half my sides above my ears clean. After applying cream and cologne, I was released from the barber's chair. As Pete had instructed, I thanked him. The barber smiled and patted my shaved head with his whole hand. He told me: don't forget to come back, boy.
My stepmother gave me money to pay the barber for the haircut. When I went to my stepmother Katie, Pete was already sitting in the barber's chair. When the barber tilted his head forward and placed the electric hair clippers on his neck, I saw him make the first about an inch wide strip from his neck high up the back of his head. In the end, his haircut was exactly the same as mine.
On the way home, I confessed to Pete that I was afraid of being teased on Mondays at school. He replied that he was laughed at too and that he still hadn't gotten used to it over the years. It's very annoying, but I can't convince my mother not to have my hair cut regularly every 2 weeks.
I also couldn't convince my stepmother Katie to let my hair grow longer before I went to the barber. So it happened that Pete and I had regular short haircuts and Macoch and Pete's moms had a discussion corner while we waited for our haircuts.
I would be happy if you would write how you liked my story today?
Please, if you grew up in the 70s, write about your experiences with visiting a modern or old-fashioned barbershop. I would be happy to receive all contributions.
Thank you

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