Every little girl looks forward to the day when she can shave her legs. Well, I did anyway. My mom always left razors in the bath tub so I would sneak and shave a teenincey patch of my leg when she wasn't looking. It was never more than a little 2" square that wasn't noticable unless you were looking for it. I did this about once a month, if I was feeling froggy.
One day, I was in class and my teacher (whom I found hideous even at the young age of 7) commented on her Widow's Peak hairline and how she thought it was so unfortunate. With that five second comment, I became obsessed. I was convinced that I had a Widow's Peak and began plotting ways to get rid of it.
I tried pulling it out, but that hurt too much. I tried pulling my hair straight back but that was a backfire. I tried parting my hair in strange ways, but it always just looked stupid.
Finally, one night at bath time, it dawned on me.
"Why don't I just shave it off?" Wow! Why hadn't I thought about this before?
So I did it. I shaved a tiny patch of hair off the front of my head. No one even noticed. I was so proud of myself that I even told my cousin about it. She thought I was smart, too.
I failed to realize that eventually this hair would grow out. And it did. In my third grade pictures, there's a little patch of hair that is growing straight down my forehead. To this day, that little section of hair grows in an opposite direction from the rest of my hair. I'm still feeling the effects from that one.
**I will take this opportunity to say that I do NOT have a Widow's Peak. I was delusional and razor happy.
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