For almost all four years of high school I wore my hair down to my waist. It was a huge pain in the ass. I spent inordinate amounts of time washing, conditioning, and untangling it and on one memorable occasion a close friend of mine helped me fashion it into a mohawk of sorts by giving me an undercut on the sides of my head (so I could wear my hair more conservatively around my mom and my teachers) and creating a formidable cement out of retail hair stiffeners, Elmer's glue, and egg whites. It was glorious. My height shot from 5' 3" to nearly 7' 1". I transformed myself from a surly, socially awkward teenager to a surly, socially awkward dimetrodon. I couldn't wait to go to the show to display my newfound splendor.
And then I found I couldn't fit my hair in the car.
I won't go into the ordeal of washing the muck out of my hair again. Suffice to say, if I'd known about the brilliant innovation that is fake hair shaped like animals I probably would have saved myself a lot of grief.