Hair

This gorgeous head of hair belongs to my oldest son. That's right: I said "son." That hair means a lot more to me than just a source of envy, too. That hair is outward proof of the kind of young man my son is, -- and not in the way you might think.

He is not a slacker or a punk. He's a brilliant, straight A student, a good athlete who plays soccer and baseball, and he holds a black belt in Goju Karate, which he earned at the age of 12 while working as an instructor to pay for his own lessons. He is kind and respectful of others, but not nerdy. He's very musically talented and he plays the guitar and writes songs.

AND he has put up with more crap from his peers, strangers, and adult authority figures over his hair than I would think a kid his age could stand. Remember "Turn the Page" by Bob Segar? (Also Metallica.) He can walk into a restaurant and it's always the same thing: is that a boy or a girl? "What will you have, miss?" He's been told he's going into the wrong restroom. My other two sons used to wear their hair long, too, (though not THIS long), and people would always comment on us having 4 girls. You can imagine what other kids his age say.

But, he likes his hair. And he's not going to change it just because people insult him or automatically assume he's something he's not. It hasn't been easy for him. We've talked about it and I support him 100%. And I am damn proud to be the mother of a boy with so much character and such a strong sense of self.