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Smiling at your mom, Kurt swings his pendulum in front of your face yet again.
“I don’t like the hair,” he says. “Kayla...you don’t like your hair frizzy.”
“I don’t li-but I do like it frizzy!” You squeal a bit worried. Your hair was naturally like this, and you love it just the way it is! It’s a more rambunctious version of your mom’s style!
“No no no...you don’t like frizzy hair at all.”
“I-I d-don’t...?” You ask, your hair beginning to lose its shape. You always wore your hair a little frizzy, but you never were in love with it...were you? Why can’t you remember what your hair was like all of a sudden?
“You don’t think you look sexy with frizzy hair.”
“I don’t think I look a-sexy with...frizzy...hair...” you admit, your hair now cascading down your torso into long, straight curls. You never liked how your mom wore her hair and you decided you wanted to wear it long and down to be like your favorite models. All of the agents said it made you look so dazzling and foxy, and you agreed with them.
“And...your dress is not clubby,” Kurt adds.
“And my dress...isn’t clubby...” you repeat, and it was true (as your dress becomes just a bit less lewd). You were in a sexy dress that you certainly wouldn’t wear to party.
Kurt turns toward a frightened Stephanie, her hand on her temple.