When I was three years old, I started noticing a lot of ladies in my life has pierced ears, like my mum. My mother is a fantastic person, and as a child especially, I wanted to be like her. She’s such a strong, independent, positive role model. So, little three-year-old me wants my ears pierced so I can be like mum. No big deal, plenty of little girls get their ears pierced. I asked dad, and he said when I turned five I could get them done. He thought that by the time I turned five, I would forget. I didn’t. So at the age of five, I bring it up again, (I hadn’t spoken a word of it for two years.) That I wanted my ears pierced. His response? When I turned seven. Again, I pass the two years silently, only mentioning it occasionally. At the age of seven, I bring it up again and what he said to me at five, but he flat out says I can’t. Four years is a long time to look forward to something as a kid. Around the same time, I become aware of the fact that people can get hair cuts. And when I thought about it, I wanted my hair cut to my shoulders. At seven, my hair was down to my waist, and had only been cut ONCE in my life up to that point. I ask for a hair cut, and get denied it. I say that there’s girls at my Brownie troop with REALLY short hair, and I only want a bob cut like my best friend has. Nope. No way. Not happening. I think I was around 10 when he finally explained his reasoning, and it was something like, “Oh, well, tattoos and piercings and haircuts and coloured hair are becoming so common, and it’s going to be really rare to find ANYONE who doesn’t have these things, and being a 100% all natural unaugmented beauty will be the beauty ideal because it will be so hard to come by, and by default you’ll be THE MOST desirable, beautiful, natural woman!” I believed it for a while, but not for long. My hair and I entered a battle of periods of love and hatred, that would continue for the next six years. Around 12, I asked again if I could get my ears pierced, and dad responded with: “You can have any piercing BUT your ears, since ear piercings are so COMMON and you have to be an INDIVIDUAL.” Well, after a couple weeks of thinking about it, I decided I wanted a nostril piercing. My mum was fine with it, so I went along and asked dad. Bug surprise, he refused and made another excuse. Around 14, I realized that My body is my body. It’s my decision what happens to it, and this is abuse. I began to protest, which led to fights. At 15, I came out as bisexual. Dad and I were having a fight about who I could and couldn’t be friends with, which led to me shouting, “IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF I’M FRIENDS WITH GUYS OR GIRLS, I’LL FUCK EM BOTH!” He ranted on about only wanting the best for me, and “this was not the best.” Gee, thanks. I was also threatened with being kicked out of the house, at 15. As one can imagine, I got really upset. Dad finally cracked and said I could get my ears pierced for my 16th birthday. Looking back, he said this just so he could stop looking like a massive homo/biphobe in front of his kid. Couple months ago he got pissed when I asked for a hair cut, and said “I could do whatever I want.” I cut off 20 inches of hair, and it just touches my shoulders in the back now. For the first time, I’m completely happy with how I look, because no one tells me how to look anymore.

Yes, I’m still living at home. Aside from the invasion of privacy, that’s the worst about my dad. He’s buying me a house when I start uni, and paying my first year tuition. Now that I have freedom over my body, there’s much less conflict. (He still finds excuses to bring it up to try and make me feel bad, but I refuse to let him be the victim.)