Earlier today one of my friends asked me if I had short hair when I was little, because she noticed I was tagged in a picture on Facebook… She said the kid that was tagged as me looked like a boy, but like me in the face.
Which brings back memories. Traumatic ones.
Imagine me, as a 3rd grader, at The Lake of the Ozarks, swimming over to a group of girls around my age.
“You can’t swim with us! No boys aloud!” one of them shouted.
“But, wait… I’m a girl! Look, I have a girl bathing suit on!” I yelled back.
It didn’t matter what I said, though. Because of my haircut, they thought I was a boy, and therefore wouldn’t let me swim with them.
Jerks.
In my mother’s defense, I’m sure she thought that a cute, short cut would be perfect and cool for summer. And I’m sure I agreed.
I don’t think I’d cut my own daughter’s hair that short, though, since I’m still moderately traumatized by the lake event. Unless it was her idea.
LOL
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