Make him look like a man by Ray

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The slap of the barbers’ hands against my head as he rubbed in some soothing cream brought me out of my daydream. "There you go,” said Dave the Barber, "all smooth. It really suits you with your height and build. No need to worry about going bald now". I looked at my freshly shaved head in the mirror, still slightly red from the hot towels and shaving foam. At 6'5" and over 250lbs of muscle, the shaved head did look good. I looked liked my dad – a real chip of the old block. "Thanks Dave" I replied, "you've done a great job. I was just thinking about the first time......".

My mind had flashed back to the summer of 1974, I was about 13 at the time and long hair was all the fashion. I had managed to grow my hair to around shoulder length and it was parted in the centre. Dad used to complain about the length of it but had come to accept it. Dad was a huge man, almost as wide as he was tall. He had been in the Army and was now a Policeman. He was liked and respected by everyone, but you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Mum was OK about it and used to say "It's the fashion Jim, didn't you want to be fashionable when you were his age?"

It was the first day of the school holidays and I had gone into town with Dad to go to the car accessories shop. We were waiting at the bus stop at about 5:00pm when a voice called out. "Jim, how you doing, haven't seen you for years". It was an old army colleague of Dads. As the two caught up I looked in the barbershop by the bus stop. It was owned by Jack Douglass and I used to go there as a child. Jack had short hair Brylcreemed back, and wore a white coat with comb and scissors in the top pocket. I hated going there as he used to give out the shortest 'short back and sides' around. The clippers would go right up to the crown. He also used to cut the front at an angle, rub oil into the hair that was left, and put a parting in it. He hadn't changed a bit as he sat reading his paper waiting for the next customer.

"Been great to see you Jim,” said Dad's friend as he jumped on a bus. I will never forget his parting words "By the way your daughter's getting big now!"

I looked down as the bus pulled away in order to hide a wry smile, shuffling from foot to foot. Suddenly I felt an arm clamp around my waist and I was picked up like a roll of carpet. I tried to struggle but it was no use. With his free hand, Dad opened the door to Jack's shop, carried me in and dropped me in the big leather barbers chair. "I was just about to shut,” said Jack as he locked the door, turned the sign to 'Closed' and pulled a red and white blind down. "Looks like I've got one more haircut to do".

I tried to struggle as the cape was put round me like a straight jacket. Dad was stood in front of me, his muscular arms folded across his huge chest. "Sit still" ordered Dad, "you're going nowhere until your hair has been cut". "I don't went it cut,” I cried." "Please don't make me get it cut, all my friends will laugh at me, short hair is not popular now, I want to be fashionable." By now the tears were streaming down my face but my protests were in vain. When Dad made his mind up about something there was no changing it.

Dad spoke. "Jack, I have to go back to the car accessories shop. Do what you want but make him look like a man. Make sure it will last a couple of months as well, I am not having a repeat of this. If he causes any trouble let me know and I will deal with it. With those words ringing in my ears he opened the door and left - it was just me and Jack.

"Please, don't cut it short, I want to be fashionable" I begged. "Sorry" replied Jack, "you heard what your Dad said, you've got to look like a man, and the haircut has got to last a couple of months. Now sit still and let me sort you out".

The chair was still facing away from the mirror as Jack started combing my hair so that it covered my eyes. I felt the comb picking up sections of hair and then the scissors clicking together. This seemed to go on forever. Gradually I could see again and I noticed the pile of hair that had fallen into my lap. Then the scissors stopped and it was silent. Was that it over, oh please let him be finished!

A click and a loud buzzing noise filled my head and supplied the answer to my question. He was going to use the clippers on me! Please let him only be using them to tidy up my neck.

As soon as I felt Jack's hand on the top of my head I knew what was going to happen. My chin was pushed down towards my chest and I felt the blades at my neck. Slowly the clippers moved up, and up, and up, struggling to cut a path through the thick hair. The change in tone told me it was winning. Once the clippers were at the crown they were brought down to the back of the neck and the process repeated over and over again.

Jack then tilted my head to the left, running the clippers up my head and around the ears, again going right up the sides. My head was then tilted to the right and the process was repeated. "That's it" I thought, "He's going to cut the front at an angle and I will have a short back and sides again".

I was wrong again, the clippers continued. This time he placed them on my forehead and brought it back to my crown. He repeated the process 5 or 6 times and the room fell silent. I could hear nothing but the sound of my heart beating like a drum. He picked up a brush and started dusting my head. I didn't need a mirror to tell me how short this was going to be. I could also hear the sound of a kettle boiling in the background.

"Just about there" said Jack, "by the time I've finished you'll be really fashionable". Jack spun the chair to the mirror and I gasped with shock. Jack had shaved all the hair off my head. All that was there was a little stubble.

The tears welled up in my eyes; I was going to be a laughing stock at school.

Jack picked up this strange looking jug and started to pour hot water into it. He brought it back over and placed it in the sink. He then pulled a brush out of the spout and rubbed it in a dish that was sat on the jug. A thick, rich, lather developed and Jack rubbed this hot mixture over the top of my head. He repeated this process until my entire head was covered with white foam.

He then opened a razor and rubbed it on some kind of stone. After doing this he reached for a thick leather belt that was hanging on the chair and started slapping the razor against it. Then he placed a tissue on my shoulder. The razor was placed against my forehead and dragged to the crown leaving a clean path behind it. I will never forget the sound of that first stroke. The razor was wiped on the tissue and the process was repeated until all the foam was taken off. Jack then lathered my head again and shaved me a second time.

After completing the shave he reached for a towel and dried my head. There was no friction at all as the towel glided over it. "This will sting a bit but it will toughen the skin on your head". I flinched as Jack rubbed something into my head. It smelt like surgical spirit used in hospitals. Jack then reached for his brush again and poured some talcum powder on to it which he dusted across my head.

At that moment there was a knock on the door - it was Dad, he is going to be really angry when he sees what Jack has done to me. "Well that's certainly a bit shorter then I expected. What has he done Jack, is that his punishment?"

"No" said Jack, "After you left he told me that he wanted something fashionable, and you wanted something short that would last a couple of months so I thought I could combine the two. Before you came in I was just reading about a new cop show that has started in the USA starring Telly Savalas. It's called 'Kojak' and is going to be shown in this country. Apparently men in the States are going into Barbershops and asking for a 'Kojak' haircut. They expect the same thing to happen over here". Your son will be really fashionable then.

I expected Dad to be annoyed but he just laughed.

The cape was taken off and I turned my head and it was strange not to feel hair moving. I ran my hand from my forehead to my neck. It was sensation I had never felt before, the feeling of smooth skin against smooth skin. Dad paid Jack and we caught the bus home, hoping that I would see no one. Back home I ran into my bedroom, slammed the door and cried and cried, while Dad told Mum the whole story. I hated the haircut, but at the same time I couldn’t stop rubbing my head. I loved the feeling.

Now a shaved head is common, but only someone with who has experienced one understands the sensation you get each shave.

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