As shown in yesterday’s post, I once had an absolutely awful haircut in the second grade.
The beautiful, springing curls bouncing above my shoulders that I had envisioned turned out to be short, stiff turds with a buzz up the back. I think my face turned pale once my new style was revealed, though I didn’t cry as I didn’t want to hurt the hair stylist’s feelings.
I just had to live… like this…
|“I’m not a boy!”|
I now never say anything if I am just not sure what gender a child is. Unless it is blatantly obvious, I don’t even guess.
That’s probably why I have had long locks ever since!