When I was little, my mom would make me wear the most mortifying ensembles. Baubles. Clown suits. Ribbons with streamers. Dresses with shoulders that looked like cheerleader pompoms and felt like the pads the players they were cheering for wore. Mushroom hair cuts and thick awkward bangs. Tights and long sweatshirts. Poor fitting warm up suits that felt silly because I’d not yet myself been indoctrinated into the sports I.. Read More