I live with my dad and two brothers. My mom isn’t in the picture anymore. When I was younger I never noticed the gender difference in my house, or at least I didn’t care. My childhood was filled with stereotypically girly traditions: wearing princess costumes to school, playing with barbies, and owning pink everything.
But when I started middle school and my body started changing, the blissful ignorance ended.
Telling my dad I got my period seemed like the worst conversation I could ever have.
So during a Target run, I slipped a box of pads into the cart and prayed he wouldn’t say anything.
I latched on to older female friends for advice. They made me feel like I had older sisters — teaching me how to do makeup, curl my hair, and find the right bra.
I don’t blame my dad for his cluelessness, and given his circumstances, he did a good job. In the end, his unconditional love and support made up for his lack of hair braiding skills.