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My Barber Trip Or Why It Seems Like I Went To Chippendales

My mother scheduled a barber appointment last week for today. I knew at the time so yeah I decided not to shave thinking that’s what I am paying barber for.

We got there and sat on the chairs to wait.

The barber was shaving and cutting a man’s hair. The man’s beard was trimmed down to same length as top of head. A short stubble length.


My mother: Oh (barber’s name BN) sculpted your hair so neatly. It matches the beard. You look so distinguished.

Me: (to me) oh god

My mother (to barber): You do such a good job.

We have been going for a year and a half.

So a few minutes later the man paid and left.

So I sat on barber’s chair. Barber and my mother kept talking about how bad Trump is. I was thinking “please pay attention”


About halfway in another man walks in circa 30.

My mother: You look like you don’t need a haircut.

Man: I come every week.

My mother: Wow BN really does a nice job. Your hair is so nice and well cut.

Me to myself (Is this Chippendales why is she objectifying these men?)

Man: BN does a good job.

My mother: It shows with you.

BN: Almost done.

It was a good job. For 17 dollars (my mother insists on seven dollars tip). She would never tip anyone that much except him. I pay half she the other half.


I realize this is her Chippendales.

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