One of my earlier memories was getting my haircut. It was in a strip mall in our small hometown. My Father took my older brother and me to get a buzzcut. I remember the stacks of coloring books and having my very first comic book adventure. Gazing at nineteen seventies Superman taking flight upon the page. This was when my love for comic books was born. I remember the feel of sitting in the huge barber chair; a booster seat to bring me up to the barber’s level. The barber seemed younger than my Dad, but still ancient. In my tiny brain. The image of my Dad wondering out the door, stating he’d be back to pick is up. I had a scared feeling, wanting to jump from the chair as the buzzing steel clippers came close to my ear. Being comforted by the barber that he wouldn’t hurt me. Softly whispering in my ear that I was safe. His hand moving under the cape to find its way into my jeans. Feeling warm and special because the barber clipping away on my brother in the next chair was not being even acknowledged. I exchanged warm smiles with the barber-man as he cut my hair. One handed.
This is when it happened, I believe. He cut a side part into my hair. On the left side of my head. I have worn a part on the left side ever since that day. Mostly, this is because I have a massive amount of callicks (or cowlicks) on the back of my head. My hair resembles the back end of a guinea pig most days. Always using a massive amount to product to keep my swirling and unruly hair in its place.
I recently had to find a new barber, as Nick the Super Barber moved to new town to start a Bed and Breakfast. I gave in and went to the hipster barbershop that my roommate uses. It is SUPER hipstery. I have a happy connection with getting my hair cut. Obviously, from my past of Superman and having my dick awakened for the first time. I went in for my first appointment half-hoping there would be comic books. There was not. I met the barber and began to explain my swirl and callicks on the back of my head. He stopped. “It’s because you have your hair parted on the wrong side.” He explained. “Your swirl and callick goes from right to left, opposite of how you’re laying your hair.” He combed my hair over from right to left and all my stand uppity hair laid flat….. Holy hell. That guy…. When I was just a kid… gave me thirty years of bad hair days??? Guess you are never too old to move your part from the left. I’m all right now.
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.
