Mary about my hair

I’d had my hair dyed, professionally this time, and was feeling a bit chagrined at having spent $85 just to have my hair done up wonder-woman black.  Mary cheered me up:

“Oh mom, don’t worry about your hair. I love you no matter what your hair looks like. It could be blonde, or brown, or black, or orange, or purple, or green… Your hair could be rainbow and I would STILL love you. Because nothing could ever make me stop loving you.”

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