By Janice Cutbush
In eighth grade I decided I would become ‘cool’ if I had a pixie haircut like Mia Farrow’s. Except she was a blonde, small-nosed American and I was brunette and Italian. My mother took me to our hairdresser, Mr. Vito, in Schenectady. I told him what I wanted.
He nodded. “Si.” I watched as he chopped my long, dark, wavy hair.
To console me my mother took me to lunch.
“Why don’t you like it?”
“It makes my nose look huge!” I sobbed.
It would take many more mistakes before I stopped trying to change myself and accepted my Italian-American identity.
Liked your use of language and the moral ending.
It’s true, the grass is always greener. Nice story.
A not so subtle reminder that we are hardly ever satisfied with our own looks. Good job.
Trying to picture you with that haircut. Great story
You always look great to A.L.L. of us! Nice job.