The child me had the bushiest Frida eyebrows you’ve ever seen…how I hated myself. Each time I looked into the mirror I would refuse to believe that the image staring back at me was actually me. The kids would pick on me at school…I was this funny looking kid from this remote Mediterranean island nobody knew about. I spoke the same language…but my American accent couldn’t fool kids into believing I was like them. So one day after school, I picked up my mom’s shaving razor and headed to the mirror. Within minutes I was transformed…Frida eyebrow no more…I went downstairs to tell my mom the good news. I will never forget the look on her face. In that minute her eyes had absorbed the whole world’s sadness. Was I free? Never free, if not me. Today, I look back at the baby me and smile. I actually had a Frida eyebrow. How freaking cool is that?? But hey…I wish I was as brave as Frida Kahlo to stick with the look. But guess this story…my story is a different one.