Beta Male Memories #2

I was about 4.5 years old, or whatever in the hell age head-start students are.

I had long curly hair that looked like a version of the young Shirley Temple everyone knows. Why? Cause 4-year-old kids didn’t have their own fuckin’ clippers in the ’70s, that’s why, and my mom thought it was “fun” to grow my hair out (I remember her frequently saying she wished she had daughters because they’re so much easier).

I remember a few people saying, “Aww so cute. How old is she?” I may have been four, but I knew I didn’t like hearin’ that shit. I give myself credit for complaining about this and eventually her cutting it, but I wish my dad would have been around to hear that comment and cut my hair promptly.

Fathers, if you want your sons to grow up and drop their nutsacks to full size, don’t let your women try to dress them in anything other than mud, cuts, and bruises.

The next story piggybacks on this, as the last straw to this “I wish I had daughter’s” shit comes to an end when I finally squash this girl shit for good.

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