Whoever said being a teacher was easy-peasy, had no clue what they were talking about! Cuando llega el momento de los exámenes semestrales…todos les damos la gloria a Dios por tecnología y scantrons – aunque sea para solo un examen.
Let’s continue with the story…and today, I am going to ask you to think about something you probably don’t ever give much thought to: ¿Cómo crees que te verías sin un pelo en esa cabecita bella tuya? Give yourself some time to picture it – really, what would you look like without one hair on your head?
I don’t know how guys would feel about this, pero si eres mujer -solo pensarlo te da escalofrío. As a women, and as a girl, you don’t even want to think about waking up and having no hair to comb, style, or simply look at.
Before the surgery, the head-surgeon came in and told me he would have to cut my hair. ¿QUÉ? Chico, ¡pero tú estás loco!
As a little girl, my wavy brown hair, with its natural golden highlights, was sacred to me. I would comb my hair in the morning before school, every time I went to the bathroom during the school-day, and at night before I went to bed. My hair was more than a part of my body. My hair was a part of my being. My hair shaped my face. It gave me character and pride. My hair did more than adorn my head… ¡Mi cabello castaño era todo para mí! Y como si no me hubiera costado nada tenerlo así largo y bonito, este hombre me dice esto.
I mean, did he think my hair had grown this long overnight? This man -who by the way had beautiful blond hair - had no idea how long it had taken me to grow my hair past my shoulders, and now, just like that - “let’s cut it.” ¡No creo yo! I don’t think so! ¿Qué te pasa a ti? What’s wrong with you! ¡Ni loco te me acerques con esas tijeras!
No! I couldn’t let him amputate what was a part of my personality, my character, my life…but this was a battle, I simply could not win…Although I did give a good fight.
Con todas las fuerzas que mi orgullo de mujercita me proveyó,lancé mi plan - ¡AL ATAQUE! I gathered up all the force in my body, my heart, and my mind, and channeled it to my legs. In a matter of seconds I brought my legs in towards my body, and then, like a horse, I kicked them out into the surgeon’s crotch. The man made a hurling noise and hunched over. No one was going to take my hair! I really hurt him. I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel sorry. He had no right. He simply had no right!
But my victory was short lived. About half an hour later, the head-surgeon walked in again, this time with two nurses who strapped my arms down to the sides of the bed. My mother came over and held my hand, as the surgeon cut off strand after strand.
Adiós cabello largo…adiós.