When you’ve got bangs like a boy, and you’re a girl, the world can be a cruel place.
When I was little my mother liked my hair short. VERY short. Once she even tried to give us uber-tight Toni perms so that the short cut could be curled
and we’d sport little afros.
Thankfully she only got to the littlest sister before changing course.
One fine weekday afternoon, whilst I was stretching on my tippy toes to smell the lilacs in my grandmother’s front yard, the garbage man on duty that day cheerily greeted me with a
“hello little boy”.
I was mortified. Could it be the plain white pull over polo shirt I was wearing? Or the purple plaid bell bottom pants?
It was obvious it was because of my haircut. Similar to a bowl cut but sheered over the ears. The bangs perfectly straight (following a strategically…
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