Let's think of something more pleasant, shall we?
First, I want to share a little story. When I was a wee thing, my parents used to try to convince me that I was really a boy. We found you under a rock, and you had a tail, they'd say, and we wanted a girl so much that we grew your hair long and put you in dresses.
I did indeed have long hair. It was so long, I used to sit on it. And I did like to wear dresses. One evening, when I was five or so years old, my parents were again telling me the story of how they found me under a rock. This evening, though, I pointed out that Nuh uh, I'm not a boy! I don't have what daddy has! I don't stand up to pee!
And so ended the game.
I thought it may be fun to play with my kids someday, and tell them that they were really girls. To bolster my argument in a way my parents didn't think of, I am gathering photographic evidence.
Isn't he pretty?
In other month-old news, I got a fantabulous haircut. I wish I'd done this years ago!
Also, I suck at self portraiture, and my cell phone self portraiture is even worse.
I did indeed have long hair. It was so long, I used to sit on it. And I did like to wear dresses. One evening, when I was five or so years old, my parents were again telling me the story of how they found me under a rock. This evening, though, I pointed out that Nuh uh, I'm not a boy! I don't have what daddy has! I don't stand up to pee!
And so ended the game.
I thought it may be fun to play with my kids someday, and tell them that they were really girls. To bolster my argument in a way my parents didn't think of, I am gathering photographic evidence.
Isn't he pretty?
In other month-old news, I got a fantabulous haircut. I wish I'd done this years ago!
Also, I suck at self portraiture, and my cell phone self portraiture is even worse.