other Jamaican’s as it was once I stepped foot on American soil. But my forehead was the bane of my existence ever since I could remember. My hair is soft, yet so finely coiled that some hair dressers believed that it would be courser than it really was and is. And my lips, they poked out as if
swollen from my small face causing me no end to the embarrassment one got from having an appendage that one couldn’t hide, out there for the World to see.