There was no traditional wedding, just a celebration of love and support. When I was a child, I often struggled with my appearance and felt convinced that I wasn’t attractive. One day, while gazing at myself in the mirror, I broke down and tearfully asked, ‘Why do I look so ugly?’ My dad, who happened to be passing by, overheard me and said, ‘Oh, didn’t you know? Before you were born, I accidentally sent my good looks to the wrong address.
But don’t worry, I kept the receipt!’ Confused, I asked, ‘The receipt?’ With a grin, he replied, ‘Yep. When you turn 18, we can exchange it for something even better—like a personality so charming no one will care about what you think is “ugly.” Trust me, it’s a much better deal.’ Through my tears, I couldn’t help but laugh. My dad winked and added, ‘Until then, you’re stuck with that face—and trust me, it’s a good one!’
When I failed my first year of university, my parents didn’t react with anger. Instead, my mom sat down beside me as I cried, wrapped her arms around me, and stayed until I calmed down. She reminded me that it wasn’t the end of the world, and no matter what, she was—and always would be—proud of me.
Growing up, my parents were always open-minded and accepting. I remember them telling my siblings and me, ‘We don’t care who you are or what you do, as long as you’re happy.’ That meant a lot to me, especially because I’m bisexual. When I eventually came out to them, they kept their word—they accepted me wholeheartedly. Now, my mom and I have conversations about LGBTQ+ topics over tea, and my dad still cracks jokes and puns about it.
My parents aren’t perfect, but they did a lot of things right. One thing that stands out is their constant support, even when they didn’t fully understand or enjoy the things my brother and I were passionate about. They weren’t into skateboarding, but they spent hundreds of dollars on my brother’s gear so he could pursue his hobby.
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