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I’ve always had pride in my long hair, rarely did I ever get it cut short, My haircuts consisted of trims and nothing else. I always got my haircut with the same guy, and he was good. He knew how i liked it and he did it perfectly, when i was younger getting me a haircut was hassle but as of now it’s not even a problem. Or at least that was the case, My barber has moved away to a different country, and with his absence I would need to find a new barber.

My mom made this a real easy decision,she sent me to a small barbershop in a mall to get my haircut. And i was nervous beyond belief. Before i knew it I was there, in the mall walking up to the shop, I gazed through the glass to see three buzzed barbers clippering away at people’s hair. Hair piled on the floor, and i was struck with a nervous sensation, as i treaded through the mall meeting my destination, knowing that I might not make it back home with my long beloved hair.

I walked in, I received many glances from the short-haired men and barberettes. I took my seat in the waiting area trembling with fear as the barberettes resumed clippering the men’s hair. Before i knew it, it was my turn. One of the barberettes was finished clipping one of them, the man paid her and before he took his exit. She turned the barber chair to me and signalled me to sit. Her hair was buzzed almost to the scalp, she wore a black shirt and some tattered jeans, she looked in good shape as well.

The barberette began to pull out a piece of neck strip from a roll attached to a dispenser at the station. She wrapped the neck strip around my neck and fastened it tightly, I could tell something was going to go wrong. She sprayed my hair down and carefully brushed through it in a aggressive manner when she was done brushing and spraying she stood there, staring at her collection of clippers with attached guards, I never experienced the feeling of clippers running through my hair, my hair’s only ever been cut by scissors.

Before i could attempt to say how I wanted it the clippers roared meanly. She steadied her clippers  and ran them through the side of my head, i felt chunks of my hair fly off my head leaving a clean buzzed spot on my head, she tilted my head with her stone cold hand and continued buzzing away at the side of my hair. I hardly wanted to look at myself, ridden of my hair. Soon she finished both sides, and prepared to buzz the back of my head, she took a moment to clean the blades of the clippers, before she resumed she tilted my head forcefully as she clipped my hair.

The other people in the shop stared intensely, as she took great pride in seeing my hair fall to the floorhead, by now she has almost finished buzzing my hair, the only thing left was the top, she quickly attached a longer guard to leave a bit more hair, she then brushed the clippers back on my forehead.

My long bangs were buzzed off and were sent flying down with the rest of my hair, she buzzed in all directions, making sure their was no left-over hair. And then the sound of the clippers were halted, she removed the neck strip and dusted my buzzed-head. I jumped from the chair calmly, though inside i was about to scream, I paid her the money and exited the shop. I immediately ran to the bathrooms. I entered the men’s room and looked at myself, with a buzzed head,  I touched what was left of my hair and began to rub my buzzed scalp. I wish it would just grow back, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

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