Now as a student and a lay-deh, my hair is free to grow as long as it wants. Which is helpful.
Something about the cumulative stress of a death in the family about a year ago (yes, that sucked. Cue 12-month disappearance from World), self-imposed poverty, and the realisation recently that I actually liked this tousled mane thing that had come back, all helped to reassure me that hell, I don't need a damn visit to the damn hairdresser.
I don't know this kid.
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