In America apparently I'm a Woman

My grandma relayed a little conversation she had yesterday with a neighbor.
It was a hot one, sunny, but the threat of rain was in the air which is why my dad was desperate to get as much hay off the fields as possible. Yes, I live on a farm and we were baling hay. It's not often that people just say, "oh, i baled hay all day". Anyway, you need to bale the alfalfa, grass and whatnot while it was dry. My dad and I were unloading wagons loaded up the night before. He was in the haymow (upstairs of a barn, storage) whilst I was on the wagon placing the bales on the elevator (like an escalator for bales, carrying them up into the barn) pretty tired, and the bales were heavy. Our neighbor who must be in his seventies, had seen this. He came by and told my grandma of the converstaion he had with his wife in observing my gruelling work not knowing it was me.

Donnie: "Why, would ya look at that. Look how hard one of Jim's (my father) daughters is working in this heat. What do you think. Should I go over and help her?"
His Wife: "Well, I don't know"
Donnie: "Maybe I should. Can't have her lugging those bales around by herself."
His Wife: "Well I don't know Donnie. Judging by the way she is throwing those bales around like that, I don't think she really needs ya."

He came over later talking to grandma, and she laughingly told them it was me. Well now, I know that it's getting a bit long and shaggy, but I truly can't believe that I am now being mistaken for a beautiful (I'm sure) woman. Never thought that would happen. Sure, I got a slim face and all... It's tough growing out your hair with little support. My mom and sisters hate it, and practically gag when they have to look at me. My manager at the bakery thinks it makes me look a lot thinner in the face and kinda gaunt, and the old workers at the restaurant just don't think that shaggy hair suits their image of "Brandon", the golden boy of last summer. I know there are plenty of others who don't like it either, and prefer a clean cut guy. Across the seas, this may have been ok, but people who know me are appalled.

There are two, maybe three people that support me in my cause. Tara at work, who always has had a thing (not for me, no worries mary) for guys with long hair, and my pop, who had long locks back in the late seventies and 80's and for all I know is proud of a son who wants to live in such a golden era. The third questionable character is my girlfriend Mary, who in the end maybe is only being supportive, not that I question her opinion. THe way I see it, this is my last chance to really grow it out and "let my hair down" before I start my carreer in teaching. I will probably have to be clean cut, and looking sharp for the rest of my life. I am determined to make it through the summer til Luther, and will then cut it maybe in October. We will see how attached I get to it.