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I was a stubborn, reticent little girl. Since I was born as an only child, I often drew pictures, read books, and played with dolls alone. I wasn’t good at behaving like a spoiled kid. If I could see myself as a child, I would say to her, “Be charming, and be more childish!” It’s a privilege for a kid to be a kid, but I didn’t understand it at all.
When I was little, my mother cut my hair short because it was easier to shampoo. I wanted to keep my hair long, but somehow, I couldn’t tell her. Also, my grandmother and mother often made sweaters and dresses for me, but they were too plain for me. Actually, I wanted to dress like a princess. I adored the color pink. Ribbons and frills were my dreams. I never tell others about my “girlish” longing. Maybe I noticed that I wasn’t so cute. I was chubby, and I couldn’t behave adorably.
After I became an elementary school student, I began to be a bit saucy. I wasn’t talkative and never talked back to teachers, but I thought I was smart just because I read more books than other students. My answers and essays in Japanese classes were too pretentious.
How about now? I don’t consider myself smart anymore, and my wording has become simpler and more humble. However, even now, inside of me, there is an obstinate, quiet little girl. Now she can wear whatever she likes, but she rarely wears pink clothes, and her hair is short. I have mixed feelings for her. I don’t love her very much because she’s too clumsy. As a matter of fact, on the other hand, I can’t hate her since she’s still a part of me.
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