@queenofbithynia I am just here to add my voice in saying that as a ten year old girl, I was convinced that Many Waters was the peak of the world's literary output. Many Waters and Little Women...can you tell I'm an only child?
@SuperGogo Definitely wish I could unread The Sum of My Parts by Olga Trujillo for that reason.
@ourlightsinvain Night Circus is one of my answers, too! My reasons are way less coherent than yours (I hadn't thought of those points, particularly (besides the clunky writing), but I agree with them). Based on the synopsis and the glowing reviews I read (on tumblr, admittedly), I was expecting to love it, but I remember closing the book after I finished and thinking to myself, "Yes, that was certainly a book." I found it underwhelming, which wasn't surprising given the amount of praise I'd read before starting it, but then I had the feeling that my lack of enthusiasm was my failing, not the book's. Although reading it did lead me to reread The Tempest.
Your dad reminds me of my stepdad, which, ugh.
@RK Awesome! That makes me feel better about my 13.
There's no hope for you, however.
My boyfriend dislikes my hair, as do most people, actually (it's dyed an unnatural color). He manages to keep his disappointment under control, however, probably because I took a firmly "like it or lump it" stance. Don't try to change this dude's hair unless you get the sense that he really doesn't care about it. Then I guess it's fair game.
UGHGHGHG I am the biggest jerk in the world. In high school, my best friend lent me her really nice, new hardback copy of The Mists of Avalon, which I not only didn't read, but then left to get all grimy in the trunk of my car. When she asked for it back, I was so embarrassed by its condition that I kept putting her off until she gave up. I was maybe 16 at the time, and this still haunts me at 25. Whyyy was I such a jerk? I really should have bought her a new copy.
High school is apparently not a great time to lend out books because shortly thereafter my high school boyfriend borrowed my copy of Graham Greene's The End of the Affair and promptly dropped in it the public swimming pool. I deserved it, though, as evidenced by the aforementioned bookcrime.
In college, a friend borrowed my copy of Middlesex and grimed it up to the point that I just let her keep it. The circle of life.