Woo hoo! My hair is (technically) long enough to pull back for the first time in about three years. I wish it would hurry up and grow so I can be a pretty pretty princess and swing my locks all around and flip them impatiently over my shoulder and sweep them dramatically off my face.
And then I can begin to notice how much shampoo I'm using, and how long it takes to dry, and how I never do anything with it anyway, and shortly after that despair will set in at how it hangs limp and frizzy down my neck and gets in my eyes and my mouth and gives me backne and gets all sweaty and sundamaged and inappropriately strange and bendy, until I can't take it one more second and storm into my hairdresser's, sniveling and beseeching her to get rid of it, just get rid of it right now, for the love of god get it off me, it burns, burns like fire, and, after all that time and effort and maintenance, walk out looking something like this again:
I can't wait!