No. Mum. it’s not like that… I didn’t want this to happen; I didn’t ask for it—it was the ponytail that did it. I know you said I should cut my hair and I didn’t because I figured it would be okay if I just pulled it I back into a tail. Lots of guys wear their hair that way and it looks cool. But once I grew it out, it looked so awesome I couldn’t bring myself to cut it. So, it just kept growing and now it’s halfway down my back and I don’t think it’s going to stop there. More and more I can feel it inside my mind. It wants me to… do stuff. Like use hair removal creams and moisturizers on my face and pluck my eyebrows and get eyelash extensions, and put on all this makeup because it wants me to look like a girl.
A pretty ponytail needs a pretty girl—that’s what it told me inside my head. It’s all I can think about. I want to be a pretty girl. I have no choice! That’s why I shaved my legs, and got a boob job and cheek implants, and a tracheal shave. I went to town with your credit card at Forever 21. If I don’t make myself pretty, I think I’ll die. That’s what the ponytail is telling me right now and you know what? It means business. Mum. It really does. I’m not running the show anymore; the ponytail is in charge. The good news is that it wants me to go to beauty school. Then I’ll be able to get a job and have my own apartment so I can be a girl all the time and the ponytail can grow really long and maybe try to take over the world. Be afraid, be very afraid.
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