I can finally admit my mother was right about my clothing, political beliefs, and everything else I had used to define myself as a person were simply passing phases that I was going to grow out of. Except for this righteous devilock, of course. That shit is forever.
Sometimes you just have to take a long look in the mirror, accept ownership of your mistakes, fix any stray hairs in your otherwise perfect devilock, and admit when you’re wrong.
There was a time when I was just a dumb teenager listening to bad music, wearing wristbands and Tripp pants, and rocking a sweet devilock. Now, thanks to my mom, I’m a productive member of society with a tie, a 401K, and a sweet devilock.
How’d she know I’d regret a My Chemical Romance tattoo across my forehead? Or how all those piercings would lead to lost job opportunities? Or that wearing spikes and studs on every article of clothing was a safety hazard? I mean, she was wrong about this outstanding devilock keeping me from finding true love but everything else was spot on.
I was naïve to think that the lifestyle I was living as a teenager would be permanent. I thought anarchy would last forever, but it’s just not feasible. Unlike this badass devilock that’s really helping me go places at the firm.
The lessons my mom taught me echo the famous Benjamin Franklin quote: “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except bitchin’ hair styles like the devilock and a rattail.”