When I was five years old, my mother cut my hair. Well, she didn’t do it, she took me downtown to the Hair Clinic and had Angie cut my hair. The point is, prior to the age of five, I looked like a girl. When I started kindergarten, though, I looked like a boy. The pictures of me on my very first day of school are about the only pictures of me in existence that look like pictures of my kids. Several of my old teachers are still teaching at my old elementary school, where Tadpole and Tomcat now attend classes, and they’ve said more than once how much Tomcat resembles me. I vehemently disagree with this, as he is the spittin’ image of his father and the older he gets, the more he looks like him. But, at the age of five, with hair so short I couldn’t even put barrettes in it, we looked a little bit a like.
My first day of school. I was so excited!
There were two girls in my class who had hair long enough that it reached their waist. Oh, how I envied their hair! One girl’s was dark blonde; the other girl’s was red. Every day they came to school with their hair in barrettes or ponytails or braids and every day I envied their ability to change their hairdo at a moment’s notice.