. I smiled weakly mouthing, "It's OK." But clearly it wasn't.After 20 minutes (it seemed like a lot longer), my tormentor lifted thedryer and grinne... evilly. "Let's see how you turned out." I stood up, apicture of submission and followed her to a chair for what she told mewas a 'comb-out'. She deftly removed my curlers one at a time anddropped them in the sink. My normally straight hair now a cloud offluffy dark curls. My torturer fluffed and lifted and scrunched my curlsall the while. For a moment that morning I wondered if it had all gone too far. I duginto my drawer and pulled out male underwear I tried to convince myselfthat this was crazy - that I was becoming crazy. I needed to get somenormalcy back. I needed to find some other way to fix my problems.This way was driving me nuts.But when I got to the door I collapsed. Those negative thoughts wereback, even stronger than before. I could not move. I was shakinguncontrollably. I needed to go back and put on my girly. More

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