Sunday, March 28, 2010

I wake up every morning, walk out of my room, and my mom always tells me my hair's grown. It makes me smile.

I woke up yesterday morning and thought, "Today is a good day to go out with my new hair... or lack of it."

So I did. Shaking, palms sweating, and feeling slightly nauseated, but I bared my head to the world. I got in the car with my mom and went to Big Lots. It took me at least 5 minutes to get up the courage to get out of the car and actually go in the store.

And you know what? Even though it took me at least 10 minutes to stop shaking, nobody gave me a second glance. True, I didn't run into anyone my own age, but considering that most of the people shopping that morning were senior citizens who didn't seem to mind my hair, how bad could the reaction from a bunch of teenagers be, right?

I know, who am I kidding. My generation may be said to be more tolerant than any other, but whoever is saying that obviously has never been to my hometown. But I'll muddle through somehow. I always do.

Oh, and my friend that made me cry? He called back the next night and apologized heavily for what he said. And I accepted, because I know he didn't mean his comments how I took them. To him, I'm just one of the guys, which is a small sort of accomplishment, I suppose.

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