As a child I used to have long curly hair. When I was in second grade of elementary school, my hair was almost down to my waist. In the mornings, my mom would part my hair in two equal sections and braid each section and then put bow ties at the bottom of each braid.
I was the third child of four in my family, so my mom was very busy in the morning preparing everything for us, and I would get tired waiting for her to braid my hair.
In the school, grades one to six had to make lines in the schoolyard and sing the National Anthem before going to their classes. Sometimes I would be late joining the line. I was so afraid because the principal was a strict disciplinarian and, in the morning, she would pace in the schoolyard with a long ruler in her hand. She would ask the students their reason for being late. The last time I was late to join the line, she told me that I was a good student so she didn’t want to punish me, but I could not be late anymore.
I had to do something seriously now. I thought about a short hairstyle, but I knew my mom wouldn’t let me have a haircut. As I returned home, I told my mom a lie. I told her that the principal said so that I wouldn’t be late anymore I should cut my hair. At first my mom didn’t want to do that, but with my insistence she agreed.
After getting my hair cut, I told her that I lied to her about what the principal said, and she got angry with me. The next day in class, my teacher was surprised to see me with short hair. She called my name with a displeased voice and said, “How could you do this to your beautiful hair?”
But I was happy because I was able to comb and brush my hair myself and be on time for school in the mornings.