For some reason I had really short hair for a good part of my childhood. I remember sitting in a toy fire truck or the airplane getting my hair cut, thinking I was leaving with certain hairdo only to find out later that my mother, sitting behind me, was giving signals to the hairdresser to go shorter, her personal preference. As a result of my mother's actions I distinctly remember telling many people that I was a girl not a boy all the time. At restaurants the waiter would say, "what would he like?" and I would gasp at their mistake! Couldn't they tell that I was a little girl? After all, I WAS wearing a dress! I even looked at a picture of myself one day and asked my mother who was the little boy in OUR picture!
With my 26th birthday right around the corner, I think, I am ready to put this behind me and forgive my mom. Mom, I love you, and am ready to move on with my life. :) I guess we all have things from our childhood that we need to let go of at some point. So, bye bye little boy Myra.
