He came to school with it cut one day, and complained bitterly that he'd been given no peace until he agreed to cut it. I patted his shoulder and told him it would grow back. That cut flattered him, after one got used to his missing mane -- little curls, lamb or lion. He came to school a few days later with the Business Clone Cut. It hadn't been short enough the first time. He brushed off my commiseration, saying the only reason he'd kept it long was because haircuts were such a bother.
He looked just like anyone else with that haircut. What hair he had left was a lifeless, neutral brown, and there wasn't enough left to curl. the bald patches at his temples looked bigger.
Millimeter by millimeter, it grew back. The exposed layers started to glint gold, and it was forever getting in his face. He didn't cut it.
I gave him a package of hair elastics for Valentine's Day that year.