Tell All Tuesday (A Day No–Two Days Late): He’s Bald, And It’s All My Fault

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In 1978 when my parents told us that we were going to have a new little brother or sister, I do not remember ever being jealous. I was so excited! I even came up with the perfect name for the little one. I remember exact place where I announced my perfect names. We going over the railroad tracks not to far from my home and I proclaimed if it is a boy name him ——- (my Daddy’s Name) and if it is a girl name her ——- (my Mother’s name). Brilliant idea of a 4 year old.

Something else I did constantly in my excitement was sing. No, not a sweet little lullaby, but a silly ditty. I asked Mother yesterday where I got it from and she was not sure if I was a TV show or what. I did a web and YouTube search, but came up empty handed.

But this is what I sang:

Hambone, hambone, chicken and gravy. Mama’s gonna have a balded-headed baby.

It is really quite a catchy tone, and I sang it over and over and over again! I am suprised that the little did not come out singing it.

So when the little fella made his grand entrance into the world BALD, I cried and cried. I knew it was my fault. My song had some how made my new baby lose his hair.

Here are big sisters looking after him, he was about three months old here, getting a little hair.
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I am happy to report that he has a nice full head of curly, well wavy hair now. I did not curse him for life. Well in the hair department, growing up with three older sisters might have some sort of curse-like effect on a boy or at the very least make him feel like he is cursed, but that is another post all together.

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About Hope

I am forty year old survivor and a five year old victim of sexual abuse. I live with severe depression and anxiety, and in 2013 was diagnosed with DID and PTSD. My journey is to reintegrate my alter and the adult me into a whole person, healthy person, and one that can empathize with others.

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