Howhe was different. How he wasn't loved.He knew it was a lie. He knew his dad loved him, and he loved his dad.But it still hurt to hear. No matter ho... hard he tried, the words stillswirled around in his head, still echoed in his ears.He finally stopped to catch his breath. Wiping his face with hisforearm, he looked at the card.Dirt stained the delicate pink colours. One of the corners had beenbent. The ink inside had been smeared.He felt the tears beginning to return. He hated this. He hated. From the time I wasabout five years old until I turned thirteen, I underwent perming andsetting on a regular basis.The most unforgettable of those permanents led me and my best friend, aguy who was a real pal, to an even stranger experience. My momexperimented on me with a great variety of "little girl" permanents,youthful versions of adult home perms. I endured having a perm every twoto four months, depending upon what type she used on me. Some of thecheaper perms did not last as long as. More

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