Question for men: Who cut your hair when you were a child?

When I was very young, I don't know. Then Howard, a neighborhood barber.

Floyd.....   It was a barber.

 I'm a guy and my mom cut my hair. After I graduated high school and got a job I started to go to a local barbershop. Thanks for your question. It brought back some good memories. :)

My mom always cut my hair. When the pandemic started and I couldn't go to the barber's anymore (and I was back at home), my mom once again cut my hair. As a kid I would usually just stand when she did it but now that I'm nearly eight inches taller than her that doesn't work, so I had to sit in a chair in the bathroom. :P

The barber.

 

  I always went to a barbershop except for the one time that my mother decided to cut butcher it. I was in those rebellious teenage years and for some unknown reason or reasons, I wouldn’t comb my hair. It truly looked like an afro rat’s nest, or rat’s nest afro. Nothing she said or did compelled me from my apathy and laziness about combing it. One day right before I was supposed to leave for school, her frustration boiled over and reached super nova stage. She grabbed either a pair of scissors or clippers, I can’t remember which, and went weed-eater on my head. I saw the results in the mirror and I was horrified. I knew I couldn’t face the judging, laughing reactions of other teenagers, I think I threatened not to go to school. She wasn’t having it. My decomposing cadaver would have been found in a shallow grave on the outskirts of town.

  Dejected, I went to school, an extremely large Apple Hat* pulled down low to my ears covering the atrocity. Of course, I knew that in the dress code at the high school, it was strictly forbidden to wear hats. My shame and humiliation causes me to try it anyway. I didn’t get past the first door before a faculty member admonished me, the hat came off and the hilarity began immediately. Finger-pointing and jeers followed me all through the halls to the classroom, where being in a contained space the tomfoolery got even worse. I’m not talking about good-natured ribbing, nay, these were stinging insults that cut to the core. I had zero response or rebuttal, I just took it, completely demoralized.

  It took almost two weeks for my hair to grow to a resemblance to anything acceptable, but daily I combed it to perfection. My mother’s lesson for me was well-learned. From that day forward, I have always been cautious about every aspect of my appearance, a 180-degree turn from the attitude I had had before the deforestation. 

  Thank you, Mama.

*The Apple Hat is the blue one at the bottom left corner of the picture.

  ~