Do Not Worry Son It Will Grow Back

Week before middle school Twelve and shy Sent to get haircut With three dollars Clippers were brought out I was too scared to look I had never had a store-bought haircut before The man had a funny smell. I would not know it was alcohol for several more years. He sang while he used a razor on my head. When he was done I looked up. He said "Three dollars son." I started to cry. A tear ran down my face. He had given me a buzz cut. I had not grown any kind of indicators that I was a girl. I had never thought to tell him. "Don't worry, Son," he said, as he took my three dollars. "It will grow back." So I went to middle school looking like a male army recruit, at the age of twelve. Worst year of my life. At that time.