I used to be a figure skater. I like saying that because it makes me sound fancy and really Canadian, but I should probably use the term loosely if I’m going to be honest with myself.

The one year I participated in the sport, we had an end of the season ice skating show. My group was performing to Dolly Parton’s, “9 to 5″ and each of us were dressed up in a worker’s uniform. Me? I was a cop.

The day of the show, we all got to the arena early to get ready. Put on my awesome black pants with red sequin stripes on the side, pulled on my beyond awesome shirt with black pockets and a fake badge sewn on, and put on my wickedly awesome cop hat. Once I was all dressed, I stood in line for makeup. Makeup consisted of red red lipstick, pretty disgusting to look back on, but SO cool at the time.

When it was my turn at the front of the line to have the lipstick applied, the lady volunteer sneered at me and said, “LITTLE BOYS DO NOT WEAR LIPSTICK.”

Harper, I will never give you a mushroom head bowl cut.