Relaxed: Not Quite a Memoir

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Year TWELVE: Relaxation Ends in a Call to Arms

“Can I touch your hair?”

Year FIVE: My Big Hair Means I’m Smart

Mike Sanders was my first crush ever. Like in the history of ever. He also was a boy who certainly did not want to touch my hair. I think it was fair to say he hated it. I kinda agreed. It was itchy and poofy and got in everybody’s way when we had story time on the midnight blue carpet.

Year TWENTY-THREE: Certain Colors Not Welcome

It was summertime in 2009. My boyfriend, myself, and a few of our friends were strolling along Main Street in Huntington Beach, intending to do a little barhopping.