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My First Fight
My mum definitely didn’t respect me.
I was in Year 7 (I spent that year in the UK) and despite my consistent protests, my mum decided that she would be the most suitable person in the world to cut my hair. I tried to explain to her why I was quite averse to her doing this. I told her that what she was doing was having a negative impact on me mentally and emotionally by destroying one of the most important and significant things to a youngster at that age.
His rep.
She would look at me emotionless, pull out a seat for me and proceed to shave my head, completely unbothered by my young virgin tears. My mum was a teacher, not a certified hairdresser or barber. So whenever she would cut my hair, it ended up looking like what we young british folk would call “a slaphead”.
A slaphead is a term used to define a head that has been shaved so low, that it produces an involuntary response to slap it from onlookers. You can’t control yourself. One minute you’re walking your daughter to school and the next minute you’re in prison for assaulting the bald head of an old man who walked past you. It’s quite a serious problem in the UK and has caused a few of my friends to undergo behavioral therapy.
Words can’t explain how much I hated how my hair would look. I hated it so much, that I once spent an entire Church service in the…
