Crown me.

Reading Time: 4 minutes

I think my Mother would have liked it if I had been a movie star. She wanted this, not because of any particular talent or beauty she noticed blossoming in her oldest and unfortunately rather plain girl child, but mostly because she was just hopeful and romantic. I knew this to be her dream for two distinctive activities she propagated before I was old enough to protest. The first was the dramatic hairstyles she practiced and hoped would turn my lank and limp baby hair into something more akin to Shirley Temple or at the very least little orphan Annie. (To Mother, curls or friz, no lesser, these two evils) So between perms and hairsprayed swept ponytales hanging from the right side of my temple, hairstyles that might have looked pretty or at least cute on other children, were borderline disturbing on me.

The second activity was almost an equal disappointment with the exception that she only tried this particular thing once. When I was six, she entered me in a beauty pageant. While I might not