“Mum, you really need a haircut.” Cerys, my eight-year-old daughter said while brushing my hair. It’s an activity that is enjoyable for her, a wannabe hairdresser and excruciating for me, a person with hair.
Examining my split ends, she persisted. “You know, it grows faster when you cut it regularly.” I didn’t argue. She was right that my hair had seen better days.