Sometimes…
… I think about how, when I was four years old, my mother put me in a Catholic daycare so that she could return to the workforce (we were not Catholic) only to pull me out in short order because with my long hair and delicate features (such a hippie child) the nuns kept thinking I was a girl and sending me to use the girls bathroom, and I would become so upset arguing with the nuns that I was in fact a boy and not a girl that I would burst into tears.
The olden times were very weird.
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