The one point my mother was very sensitive to (and very inflexible with) is hair.
Notwithstanding the actual state or length of my thatch, a reference to it has always been the first remark at any reunion.
As a reaction, I stopped using and actually owing a comb at the age of 14, and I never regretted it.
In Cambodia, I thought being finally free to let grow my hair without nasty comments and recurring injunctions. But people in the village felt concerned too and started calling me “Sok wegn” meaning Long Hair.
Then, a progressive whitening and rarefaction process started and is still going on.
I wouldn’t mind to end up with a semi bold head, which to me entail a certain degree of respectability and wisdom.