A flair for small rebellions
Back in high school, I shaved part of my long hair and permed the rest in an attempt to be edgy. “Edgy” was not what my family nor my teachers used to describe the gnarly mess atop my head. My decision skills being what they were at the time, I then went and dyed part of it purple. I believed my hair to be a puce masterpiece, both bold and dramatic at the same time. I was secretly pleased with how others would contort their faces upon seeing me, as if they were squaring off with Medusa in a dark...