"Just be honest."
He stood there in front of his mother, his sandy blond hair a mess of curls he’d tried to style after Tony Curtis.
“What do you think, mama?”
Gladys pursed her lips and took in her boy. He was on the verge of graduation, of adulthood, and she just wanted him to look like her little boy again with his smooth mop of hair.
“Elvis…” She tried to begin. She wanted to be gentle with her boy, but sometimes he needed a firm hand. “Satnin knows best and your hair wasn’t meant to be curly.”
“Mama.” He said with a huff of defeated air leaving his lips.
His mother cupped his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, “You’re perfect just the way you are, Elvis. No need to change yourself for anyone.” She kissed his forehead and that was that.
