600-word version:
“You deserve the name Lego; you were the Lego block between me and the other girls.” She said to me on the breakfast table one day. I felt as though I had been asked out by the cutest boy in school while gasping for breath yawning and trying to rub the wax off of my drooping eyes. Both consternated and embarrassed for one, I do not look like a Lego at all “now,” but two, I did look like one of those Lego figurines “once” when I accidentally cut my hair too short and too straight, and hence I still beheld this nickname from time to from my jocular friends...

902-word version:
I stared at her, my bacon dangling from my mouth.

“Pardon me?”

“I said, you really deserve the name Lego. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be distant from the other girls.”

A curious metaphor, but as I sat and slowly contemplated, her words began to make sense. No, I do not look like a Lego anymore—though I once did look like one of those Lego figurines when I accidentally cut my hair too short and too straight two years ago—but my friends still insist on using the moniker...