They mooed when I walked into class — actual moo sounds. Someone taped a straw to my locker with “BARN PRINCESS” scrawled across it. Everyone knew my family ran a dairy farm, and they treated me like I’d stepped out of a cartoon. Before school, I’d scrub my boots in the gas station sink, trying to wash off the smell of manure. It never worked.

It started freshman year. I’d miss morning practice to help with calves and show up smelling like iodine. Continues…