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At the second chair, an olderbarber looked up when they entered and smiled. He was cutting anotherolder customers hair with clippers. There was a third chair with a youngboy getting a crew cut while his mother waited."Well, well, what have we here?" the older barber said as he turned thechair slightly and resumed cutting the man's hair."What in the world?" the customer exclaimed seeing Mark."Marge. I believe your appointment is here," the elder barber called outlooking at Mark again before trimming his customers hair again. "Justhave a seat young man and she will be right with you," he smiled. Theman in the chair stared at Mark confused. "What are thing coming to.Girls looking and acting like boys, and now boys trying to look likegirls," he said under his breath."He's just one of Marge's customers Mr. Simms."Marge approached with a warm smile. She was in her fifties. A fullfigure woman but very feminine. She had a rather dated 60's hairdo,almost a bubble style, with vibrant red hair.. College was very easy. Yet academic achievement no longer held my interest. I was obsessed with wrestling. When I wasn’t in the gym working out and lifting weights, I was practicing wrestling moves with male friends of mine. I wanted to have an edge over any wrestler I would face on the mat, male or female. I was strong. That didn’t count for too much, especially against female wrestlers. Male wrestlers are stronger than most female wrestlers but some still lose to the girls. The girl wrestlers usually have more technique than their male counterparts. It’s their way of compensating for lack of brute strength. I decided to enhance my training. I needed to become a ruthless, destructive fighting machine. Yet I wasn’t there. I wasn’t the kind of athlete that I wanted to be. Coach George sensed that in me. We had some words. He was curious as to why a guy like me was on the wrestling team. Most student athletes weren’t academic luminaries. Some were pretty decent, though. I told him that.
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