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This is a little story of a woman who sees a few photographs of her husbands’ father when he was in the military.

Back then it was called a G.I., “Government Issued’, now it is called a “High-N-Tight”. You will see what happens when he is talked into getting one by her and what happens to her.

JimB

It was a slow day for me, the usual weekday business. All the hair cutting these days was going to those new “Unisex” salons in the shopping center.

I had not seen business this bad in my twenty years as a barber.

I had just swept the dust and what little hairs there were into the trash bin.

I was just about to go for lunch when the door opened. This young couple walked in, they were in their late twenties and married just three months.

His hair was a little below the ears and he was well dressed for the time.

Her hair was below her shoulders and in need of a trim and she was well dressed, too.

When he got into the chair the usual question was asked, “What can I do for you today”.

“My wife saw a photograph of my dad when he was in the military back in the early fifties,” he began saying, “and she liked that military haircut. Can you cut mine like that, but a little longer.”

Before I could answer him, his wife jumped up to the chair, “You promised you would get it cut just like his in the photograph, NOT a little longer.”

They looked at each other, but as we men know a woman always wins out.

“Do you know the type of haircut he is talking about,” she asked me.

“Yes,” I told her as I pinned the cape in back, “it’s called a G.I., “Government Issued.”

She looked at him as if she was pinning him down in the chair with her eyes, “That’s how short he wants his hair cut.”

“And,” she continued, as she walked back to her chair, “NOT any longer.”

I gave him that look you give a man when he has that old “ball and chain” around his neck.

“One good old G.I.,” I told him as I begin cutting his hair short with the comb and scissors, for the clippers. He mumbled something low, but I would find out what he said later.

Hair was flying everywhere, it was real fine as if it had been washed within the last hour.

She sat watching every “snip” I made with the scissors, smiling like a dad of today would if he was watching his son get a real haircut. He shook the hair from the cape to the floor as I put the comb and scissors on the shelf.

“G.I.,” I told him, and her, as I oiled the clippers’ teeth.

He shook his head “YES”, a little, she shook hers with a big smile.

As I began clipping the right side of his head his right hand came from under the cape and he shook it at her, as if he was telling her “I’ll get you.”

As I clipped over his ear and began clipping the back she came to the chair to inspect the haircut. It was meeting her approval as she gave his nose a little twitch with her fingers. She returned to her chair as I was coming up over his left ear. I then began passing the clippers over the top of his head.

“The sides, …..,” she winded as she rushed back to the chair for a closed look, “the sides, and the back.”

“What about them,” I asked.

“They’re not shorter than the top,” she cried. “I could hardly see the hair on his father’s head in the photographs.”

“Yes,” I replied, “they will be shorter. I have to get all his hair one length first. You know like the longest then to the shortest.”

She gave me that “if you say so” expression and backed stepped to the chair she was sitting in. With that I turned to the shelf and changed the head of the clippers.

I started to start on the right side, but decided to clip the back first to add a little excitement. I pushed his head downward and began clipping.

Her head rose trying to look at what I was doing in the mirror behind the chair. I could tell she wanted to rush up to the chair and see, but I gave her a look that repelled her fast.

She grabbed the seat of the chair and dug her fingers into it.

As I worked around to the left side the clippers pushed a large clump of hair before it, sending it into his caped lap.

When she saw the amount of hair and how short the first path in front of his ear was, she quickly smiled.

A few quick passes on the right side and I was finished. I undid the cape and let it fall into his lap, as she started to get up.

Quickly I tucked a large towel in his collar, spreading it over his shoulders.

She half stood and half sat trying to figure out what I was going to do.

I turned to the shaving cream dispenser and let a nice pile of white fill my hand.

As I spread the shaving cream along the hairline her face became puzzled, as did his. After cleaning my hand I picked up the straight razor and began sharpening it on the leather strap hanging from the right arm of the chair.

I could see both of them watching me do this close, still puzzled.

As I began to shave the hairline he smiled as he remembered what I was doing. Her eyes got a little wide still trying to figure out what, if not why.

After I was finished I wiped the hairline with the towel before I pulled it out. I put a little hair cream in my hands and brushed them over his “G.I.”.

The cream was not like when I was his age, real sticky, but more of a mousse they were using now. I pulled the cape from across his lap and lowered the chair.

As the chair came to rest, he stood up and stepped out of it.

She was now standing in front of him with a big smile as she brushed her fingers over his haircut.

“Feels great,” she told him and turned to walk away.

“No ….. no ….. no …..,” he said a little loud, “as we agreed me first then you.”

His left arm and hand was pointing to the barber’s chair. She stopped a few steps away and turned her head over her left shoulder.

“You ….. you …..,” she replied with a frog in her throat, “You have to be kidding. I was only joking.”

He gave her a deep look with his eyes, which was telling her ‘he did not take whatever it was as a joke’.

He looked at me, “You do cut women’s hair, don’t you.”

I looked at him and then her, and shook my head “YES.”

“Do I have to pick you up and put you in the chair,” he asked her.

She took a deep breath and got into the chair. “Just ….. ,” she began to say.

“G.I.,” he spoke up over her voice, “Just like the one you gave me. Right my dear.”

She looked up, took another deep breath, and smiled.

“YES, my dear,” in a bidder sounding voice.

I shook my head and tossed the cape over her. I pushed her hair up to pull the cape around her neck and pinned it in place.

“Do it quick,” she told me.

He heard her and turned around.

“NO,” he told us, “just like you did mine. Cut her hair with the scissors first, like you did mine. THEN, the clippers.”

“Does he have to shave me?” she asked.

He just smiled and sat down to watch as she did.

I picked up the comb and scissors and began cutting long strands of hair for the top of her head. Each cutting fell into the cape, passing by her eyes first.

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Each “snip” of the scissors brought a little sound from her and a deep breath of disbelief.

Slowly, to her and him, I reduced her hair length to about an inch and a half.

First on top, the back, finally the sides.

It was not until I began cutting the sides did she look at herself in the mirror behind the customer’s seating.

She noticed how short her hair was being cut to and the smile he had on his face. It was the same type of smile she had when he was getting his haircut.

His eyes followed each cutting until them stopped in the cape, or on the floor.

She took her hand from under the cape and brushed it across her face, brushing away some strands which became attached to her make-up.

Seeing he was enjoying her haircut, as much as she did his, she gave him a “twitch” of her nose and stuck her tongue out at him in the way a child would to their parent.

Then, they looked at each other as two people in love would and laughed a little, which caught me off guard somewhat.

She became more relaxed in the chair and put one foot on the footrest and crossed the other over it. This made him sit up a little and give her a bigger smile.

I had the quarter inch head on the clippers and was about to change it, to the half-inch head, when she said, “Boy, ….. are they going to be surprised tonight.”

I reached over the top of her head and pulled the clippers backwards, pushing the first pile of hair to the back and falling to the floor.

As I brought the clippers back to the front her head rose up to meet it.

Slowly I pushed the clippers backward with another pile of hair before it, she began tilting her head forward as I moved the clippers.

I made the third pass from the back, pushing a pile of hair to the front and into her lap. As it fell in front of her eyes she took another deep breath.

The fourth and final pass over the top of her head was made from the back to the front.

I started on the right side working the clippers around to the back to the left side.

When the last clipping was made I turned to the shelf and changed the head to the “000” head. This head would clip her hair shorter on the sides and back than his was clipped.

As I was about to begin the final clipping she said, “One real short “G.I.,” please.”

They both smiled and gave another little laugh.

With that I began clipping the right side of her head, going up to the arch tossing the clipped hair into her lap. As I began the second pass, she took her left hand from under the cape and took a handful of her cut hair.

Reaching out to him she asked, “Want some to keep.”

He smiled and shook his head “NO,” with that answer she tossed it to the floor.

Putting her hand back under the cape she raised the cape causing all the clipped and cut hair strands to fall to the floor, cleaning the cape of hair. But, it was not long before the clippers were pushing a small pile back into it as I clipped the left side.

I dusted her head with the hair duster and undid the cape in the back. I raised the ends up to let them fall to her lap, when they both spoke, as one, “Do not forget the shaving.”

“No way,” I said as I began filling my hand with shaving cream from the dispenser. It was warm and her head responded a little as I began applying it along her hairline. I had the straight razor opened and was ready to begin shaving her hairline.

“It better be sharp,” she told me.

I looked at the razor then her. Her eyes were motioning me to the leather razor strap. I took hold of it and began stropping the blade over it.

When I let the strap go he was standing by the chair.

He pushed some of the shaving cream higher up the side of her head, “I think the sides and back should be shaved completely.”

She sat up a little and turned herself to the mirror behind the chair.

“You mean shaved to the skin,” she inquired of him.

He smiled and shook his head “YES.”

She looked at herself again, “Can hardly see any hair now.

“But, ….. Oh, ….. what the hell.”

“Shave it smooth on the back and sides,” she told me. He backed away from the chair a little.

“All you want is hair on top,” I asked her.

She looked at him, then at me with a smile, “Just hair on the top, that’s ALL.”

I closed the razor and put it in my shirt pocket. I charged up the dispenser and filled my hand with shaving cream. As I was applying the cream to her clipped side, I had to ask, “What about your husband?”

“Naa …..,” she told me, “his haircut looks great with the short hair on the sides and back. On the other hand, ….. my haircut would look better with the sides and back shaved.”

I continued to spread the cream over the clipped sides and back, as I tried to think of what was going on. As I opened the blade up I asked her, “Is the blade still sharp enough, or should I sharpen it more.”

“Don’t be funny,” she said, “how would I know if the blade was sharp enough.”

With that I began taking short strokes from the arch, of her head, downward. Each downward pass was made with two short strokes, leaving behind nothing but “skin.”

It took me about fifteen minutes to shave the sides and back of her head, but I did as she, they, wanted leaving “only hair on the top.”

I wiped the skin clean with a damp towel and was about to apply some skin cream, when she stopped me.

“I can feel some hair stubble here,” as she was rubbing her fingers behind her right ear. “Here, too,” she said as she was brushing her fingers over the sides and back.

I felt the skin and felt some small stubbles of hair, and told her “To get it smoother I will have to shave you again.”

“Do it,” she quickly answered, “it felt good being shaved.”

I re-lathered her sides and back for shaving, but this time I used a safety razor.

Like with the straight razor I made each stroke short, only this time they were made upward. I pulled the skin downward as I shaved upward, this expose more hair, what was left of it, above the skin. The shaving took a little longer, as I did a search for stubble as I went about.

With the last stroke taken I asked for her approval.

She brushed her fingers over the shaven sides and back, “GREAT,” she told me.

I put the razor down on the shelf, and put some skin cream in my hands.

As I began to spread the cream over her shaved sides she gave a “mmmmm” sound, “that feels good.”

For some reason it felt good to me, also.

I put some mousse in my hand and spread it over the top of her head where her only hair was. I finished up by bushing her head and face with some hair powder. I pulled the towel from her collar, pulled the cape from across her lap, and lowered the chair.

As she stepped from the chair he was brushing his fingers over the side of her head.

“That feels GREAT. I want to shave it again before we go out tonight,” he spoke pleasingly.

He paid me and they left.

For some crazy reason I wanted to see them come back for another haircut, maybe I will give her a free haircut next time.

Maybe, just maybe, they will bring in another female with them who wants her hair cut the same as he
r.

MAYBE, just maybe …………………….

And, maybe just one more real short G.I., you just never know.

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