My Father Paid Me Every Month to Cut and Dye My Hair Exactly How He Wanted — When I Learned Who He Was Trying to Make Me Look Like, I Felt Sick

"Don't let them change the shade," my dad said, handing me $300.

"And tell her to cut it right below your chin again."

That had become our weird little arrangement.

Once a month, Dad gave me money to keep my hair short and bright blue.

At first, I thought it was hilarious.

I was seventeen; I liked experimenting with my appearance, and if my father wanted to fund a salon appointment every four weeks, I wasn't exactly going to argue.

The strange part was how specific he was.

When I wanted to grow it out, he offered me another hundred dollars to keep it short.

When I suggested purple, he immediately said, "No.

Blue suits you." Once, the stylist made it slightly darker than usual, and Dad stared at me for several seconds before saying, "Next time, ask her to go lighter."

I laughed.

"Why do you care this much about my HAIR?"

He looked embarrassed and shrugged.

"I just think you look beautiful like this."

My mom thought the whole thing was odd too, but mostly harmless.

Dad had always been generous with me, and compared with the things other parents argued with their teenagers about, paying me to maintain a haircut didn't exactly seem dangerous.

Then one afternoon, I came home early and heard Dad talking on the phone in the hallway.

I wasn't trying to listen until I heard him say my name.

"She's almost there," he said softly.

"The hair made a huge difference."

There was a pause.

Then he said, "No, her mother still doesn't know."

I stood completely still.

The next sentence that came out of his mouth made me gasp.

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