LAUREN BRAVO: I may have fun swishing my hair but it just gets everywhere

THERE are many disadvantages to having stupidly long hair.

For all the fun you can have swooshing it about like Marcia Brady and combing it over your face like Cousin It, it’s hard to deny the inconvenience of carting round a large and unnecessary extra body part all the merry day.

It gets trapped under the shoulder strap on my handbag about once an hour.

And, about once an hour,

I yank it out, leaving a few strands behind, and shout: “STUPID HAIR”.

It moults across our floors at such an alarming rate that I sometimes wonder whether my boyfriend isn’t secretly entertaining a troupe of 12 identically blonde women while I’m at work.

Put your hand down on any part of our floorboards and you’ll come up with a whole handful – and that’s WITH a fastidious twice-a-year vacuuming. It wanders further afield, too.

Friends have reported my hairs turning up on their floors, on their clothes, and even in their beds.

And, memorably, in someone’s nostril. When I wasn’t even there. Answer me that one...

But by far the worst part of having loads of hair is right now, when it’s hot.

Having kept me nicely cosy all through the winter, suddenly it’s a giant furry albatross round my sweaty, sweaty neck.

I look at the mad people who walk about in tights and leather jackets and such when it’s 30 degrees outside – and then I realise that I really am

no better.

I have gone out swathed in two-and-a-half feet of hair, and then wondered why I felt a little over-warm.

I know what you’re thinking. And, yes, I could just get a haircut.

I could have a sensible bob, or even go the whole hog, crop it off and donate it to charity like a noble person.

But you see, my stupidly long hair is more than just vanity – it’s a project.

It’s the longest I have managed to grow anything.

All my pot plants shrivel up and die, I can’t keep herbs alive to save my life (or my ragu), and nobody ever asks me to look after their pets while they’re on holiday.

Yet I have managed to cultivate this extravagant, pointless,

over-insulating curtain of proteins for half my adult life so far, and it would be a shame to quit now.

Besides, all I need to do is grow it about another ten inches and I could do the full Lady Godiva – which would be cooler in the summer...