Source: Image by prostooleh on Freepik

A man's hair is one of the most important physical attributes he has.

Just having good hair alone kicks you up 2 Units on the attractiveness scale.

You think you're a 5, get a good hairstyle. You're instantly a 7.

A good hairstyle is so empowering that the first step out of a barber's shop feels like you're walking on the red carpet.

This is exactly why guys love their barber so much.
A good barber can turn you from "sexual harassment" to "rizz".

But for every good thing, there is unfortunately the bad side.

Haircuts can be a beautiful experiences, but they can also be disastrous.
As much pride and admiration a good haircut can bring, so can a bad haircut bring shame and humiliation.

And this, this is my story.

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It all started on a particular day of a particular month of a particular year.

I was a naive young boy just wanting to look fine for the multitudes of girls crushing on me.

I made my way to my regular barbershop but upon entering, I saw that the barber that normally cuts my hair was not around.

Now as a guy, you already know the feeling that was emanating from my heart... pain.

and for those who don't understand, it is a huge red flag whenever your usual barber is not around to cut your hair.

I stood in the doorway in shock, digesting the absence of my barber.
but wait, there's hope,
Maybe he just went out for a bit, he'll probably come back soon.

I was wrong.
Apparently, he would not be coming at all that day, I was told by the other boys there.

Well that's it I guess,
the ladies would have to see my fresh cut another day.

I was about to turn and be on my way when I heard the dreaded words escape from the moiths of one of the apprentices... "Bros, I fit barb your hair."

I shuddered.

No way.
Every sane guy knows the danger of letting anyone apart from your barber touch your hair.

I laughed and said "no, don't worry, I'll come back when my guy is around."

I thought I was done with that until I saw the disappointment on the boy's face.
My heart couldn't take it.

I let out a big sigh and told him to barb my hair.

His eyes lit up and he basically dragged me to the chair and without any hesitation, got right to work.

I prepared for the worst but the more he worked, the better my hair started to look.

I watched in awe as my hair started to take a beautiful shape.

After a while, he was done.
I stood up to admire my hairstyle.
It was amazing, it looked even better than what my regular barber cuts for me.

Wow.
So the stereotype of the apprentice sucking at cutting hair was actually false.

I was elated.
I was just a few notches away from giving this guy a kiss on the forehead.

In the middle of my self admiration, a man came in.

I had never seen this man in this shop before.

He looked way older than the boys in the shop.

He carried himself with poise and all the boys greeted him.
I later found out he was the owner of the shop.

I was about to pay for my hair when the man said "wait."

He looked at my hair for a full minute and asked me to sit.

I told him I had already cut my hair, he just repeated his instructions; "sit down."

I did and he wrapped the barbing apron my neck.

I watched as he opened a cupboard with a key and brought out a bag containing a plethora of tools.
They were all shiny and looked professional.

I started to get excited, this man was the owner of the shop, the number one and now he wants to work on my hair with special tools???

It was going to be awesome!

He got to work on my hair.

His hands moved so methodically it seemed like he was performing magic on my hair.

If only I knew it was dark magic...

The first thing I noticed was that everything was getting lower.
My high top, the sides...
The only thing that was getting higher was my hairline.

Wait, something's not right.

I thought this man was supposed to be a seasoned barber.
I let this man cook and he burnt down the entire house.

It was afterwards that other people started telling me he was only good at barbing lowcut/buzzcut hairstyles.

When he was done, I stood up to see what had become of my hair...

Mango.

That's all I'm gonna say.

It was then that I noticed how quiet the shop had gotten.
The hails of the people there had turned to uncomfortable silence and their looks of admiration had turned to pity.

I left the shop bowing my head as low as possible so that no one would see the face of the boy with the mango head.

I wore cap for a month!

Suffice to say, I never went to that shop again.

What pains me the most is that I still paid for that hair.

The end.

Thank you for reading.
Stay buzzing,
Maximus.