Oh. I’m still me. And there’s washing to be done.

Even as I enter my wisdom years, I am still disappointed to wake the morning after a haircut and find that my life has not, after all, been transformed. Although, with the wisdom that I have so far accumulated, I am relieved that none of the haircuts circa 1990 did transform me into Winona Ryder*. I reckon I’d’ve been – and continue to be – happy as Annie Lennox but.

*Updated to add: I would, however, make some Faustian pact involving trading off the rest of my life to spend just three years with my name tattooed on Johnny Depp’s arm. Yes, I really would.

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