It grows nonchalantly. You don't think about growing often, but you tend to it faithfully at least once a day. Under your gentle care, it grows. Slowly, it burgeons forth, outward. It flows in the wind like a ripe field of wheat in August. The delicate tendrils float on a carefree breeze; alighting, they lighten the mood of any who see them.
Hair.
You love it. It looks good. People see your hair, and it makes them respect you. Your hair is power.
So why would you want to pull it out? Why would you pull out your beautiful, carefully groomed, shining, flowing, glimmering hair? You wouldn't want to.
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