I have kept the stories from my short story out of my blog to keep them separate. I am almost done with my short story and plan to publish it soon. However, I thought I’d mention why I hate hair brushes here.
My mother used to love to hit me with hair brushes. It seemed to be her favorite past time.
I had long thick blond hair as a child. It was quite beautiful. But it was hard to maintain. I kept getting knots in my hair. Huge ugly knots.
My mother often had to use scissors to cut these huge knots out. I would get into a lot of trouble when this happened.
She would scream at me that I was lazy.
She would scream at me that I was stupid.
She would scream at me that I was no good.
All the while hitting my head with whatever hair brush she happened to have in her hand. She would yank on my hair with the hair brush and pull as hard as she could. Tears always ensued. This was not a pleasant process.
As a young adult, I used to think this was a passive aggressive issue on my part. But after I had my own children, I realized how hard it is for a child of this age to comb their own hair to get it tangle free. It is not an easy task and the coordination needed it not yet there. This was a surprise for me to learn and a revelation.
I did not do this on purpose to make my mother angry. I simply did not have the necessary development yet to complete the task at hand. This realization went a long way to helping me feel better about these memories.