Nevertheless, I was not conscious of how bad I looked until one day I overheard my parents arguing. My attire and general appearance had become a source of irritation between them. Mother was upset. She could not understand why the tailor always failed to fit me properly or why I had to have my head shaved. The question remained in the back of my mind and well-dressed boys like the tailor's son were harsh reminders. I became very self-conscious.
In light of what had just happened, I now began to understand what Father would not, or perhaps could not, explain. It was people like the art teacher who he was trying to protect me from. Deprived of the opposite sex, some men were really "hard up". A handsome, beautifully dressed, young boy caught their eye like a topless female. Unescorted, he was quite a temptation. Father obviously, in his own unique way, was camouflaging me as an ugly duckling, which was easier on him and a lot safer for me. I never had to be on guard, nor--like some boys--did I feel the need of being escorted by a servant. Sadly enough for many, it was either that or be left, like the son of the tailor, to the mercy of the wolves.
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