Sometimes I read stories and think to myself, oh, I wish I could be in his/her shoes. Sometimes I read stories and think to myself oh, I am in his/her shoes, how odd! But never before reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Bernice Bobs Her Hair had I thought to myself, oh God, I’m a conceited a**hole. Well at least, not because I so identified with a fictional character.
I have had long blonde hair for virtually my entire life. I, for a very long time, regarded this as my most attractive feature. I liked my hair a lot and knew that strangers and old men on the bus did too. It distracted from the rest of my face and provided an ample curtain to hide behind when necessary. It was feminine and met the archetype of American advertising goals, at least when Britney was at her peak.
This was last week. (To clarify, not Britney’s peak. I would say that was roughly 2001.)
This week, I read Bernice Bobs Her Hair. This week I realized that I too, was being ridiculous and shallow and cowardly. This week I cut off my hair. My face is now visible. I look like a little boy. I feel free free free.
Does this ever happen to you? Is using “a**hole” on a public library blog for teenagers inappropriate?