Unless you are one of those heavenly specimens simply born with luscious locks that touch your toes (in which case, you’re probably Italian or Spanish or something lush and continental like that), then you will feel my pain. Hair, and its tendency to not grow past a certain length, or to just look a bit … ‘meh‘.
– I’m looking directly at you, Mam and Dad, with an expression stern enough to make Lucifer weep –
I mean, I can’t blame it all on genetics. I drowned it in bleach and cut it to my shoulders alllll by myself, when I went through that stupid rebellious teenage stage in year 9. Since then, it’s been black, brown, ginger, blonde, brown again, pink, blue, singed, stripped, bleached, burnt, pulled, ripped – you name it.