Dating : Wet Hair + 2nd Grade Pictures = Sobering Truths

F*ck My Hair and F*ck My Mom

Two weeks before school picture day, I had finally had enough. This hair shit had been consuming my thoughts and I felt completely out of control. I hated my parents for not understanding, and I hated them even more for not helping me fix my ugly hair.

“YOU ARE THE MOST SELFISH PERSON I HAVE EVER MET!” I scream at my mama as I storm out of my bedroom. I am having a full blown, 8-year-old version of a nervous breakdown. I’ve been bawling my eyes out for the past hour, and now I’m officially ready to fight.

My mom barely looks up from her book before calmly asking me to clarify. She has been hearing me bitch about my hair for months, and this is clearly the last conversation she wants to be having.

I am fucking furious. My body is shaking with rage and I am crying so hard I am hyperventilating. My mama is an inconsiderate asshole, and I am absolutely beside myself that I have to explain once again why she failed me as a mom.

My voice gets lower, as I temporarily try to stop the crying long enough to get my point across. As far as I’m concerned, I might as well be dead. And now I need my mean mama to hurt as badly as I do so she can understand the severity of this situation. And she should hurt! This is all her fault.

“You have big … huge … hair,” I carefully explain to her, with the slow and methodical voice of a serial killer.

I’m doing my best to channel a patronizing but commanding tone, completely unaware that I instead look like an escaped mental patient. My voice is trembling and my hands are twisting into a nervous red knot.

I am quickly losing control, and need to get the rest out fast. I scream my final cutting words. “YOU WERE SO SELFISH TO HAVE A BABY CUZ YOUR HAIR IS BIG AND POOFY!”