I live with my parents, just the three of us. Recently, I met my cousin Sara again after years. Since upper elementary school, I’ve been losing friends, and now hardly anyone talks to me. Sara told me, “If you paid a little more attention to your appearance, things might change.” But at home, my mom’s rule is that “kids should stay like kids.” Messy hair is fine, clothes don’t matter. She wants me to be that simple, obvious kind of “child.” So I couldn’t accept Sara’s words.
Mom has always accepted me just the way I am—not dressed up or pretending, but simply myself. I wanted to believe she was right. Yet when Sara gave me hand cream and a brush, I was so happy my heart leapt. That’s when I realized it’s me who doesn’t like how I look now. Still, I know Mom wouldn’t understand, and just as I was giving up, she found Sara’s gifts and sent them back.