Oh look, her hair’s been brushed!

Seriously, though.  My family still likes to bring up that time I’d been away from them for a week for camp and hadn’t brushed my hair (I was about 11 and I was a short kid, but I could still sit on it without bending my head backwards).  I came running up to them in sandals, my hair flapping crazily behind me, and they were so taken aback, they’ve never let me forget about it.

But I pretty much didn’t care.  I kind of enjoyed the novelty of the awfulness of it, to be honest; I am the only P-type in a family of Js and although I don’t think it was something I was particularly aiming for, getting to make a disorganized mess of myself felt really good.