Much of the time mother made me over, I would come to stare at myself in the mirror. Where in the be
Much of the time mother made me over, I would come to stare at myself in the mirror. Where in the beginning, typical of a boy, it was a mix of horror, disbelief and confusion, over time I feared that my horror was wearing off, that I was becoming used to it. More so, that I was changing. That I was coming to see myself as “pretty”. That I was coming to think in many ways like only a girl supposed to.Am I as pretty as the other girls? Would the boys want to kiss me?How overwhelming it was knowing that I was coming to so want it to be true… -- source link
#kissing fairies