When I was little, a mother of one of my brother's friends painted a portrait of him for my parents as a gift. They liked it so much that my mom decided she wanted one of all of us for the house. I'm not sure what came over me, maybe I was trying to mirror Mary Lou Retton or possibly going for easier maintenance, but I decided I needed to give myself a bowl cut the night before I was supposed to sit for my portrait. As soon as I was done with my "trim", I ran out of the room hysterical crying into my mom's arms wondering how it could have turned out so terribly. Well younger self, a) you are not Frederic Fekkai and 2) an 8 year old with scissors and no mirror NEVER leads to a happy ending. I had to deal with the consequences and still get my picture painted with the horrendous hair cut. When I saw the end result I was so embarassed that I begged for her to add some locks so I didn't look like a second Haynes son. This is what resulted:
Not even a great painter could hide my mistake that night. Years later, after I had moved to Roswell and far from those I went to school with at East Side Elementary, I met someone who said "Weren't you that girl who chopped her hair like a boy's in first grade?" It just goes to show, sometimes you can't escape your childhood mistakes. Mine still stares me in the face at Thanksgiving and Passover, and I still laugh every time I look at it.
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