I'm sitting in the local tea bar, sipping some chai and not writing the bench memo I have due tomorrow, because irresponsible. I twirl my hair as a comfort mechanism — I make an effort to not do it in a work environment, but it's a Sunday and I'm sipping tea.

An old man walks up to me, taps me on the shoulder, and starts talking to me while I stare blankly at him waiting to get to the point.

"Well, when I was in high school (I was often drunk so I fell asleep in class) I was in English class and I noticed all the girls twirling their hair just like you and eating it. EVERY ONE OF THEM. And I just wanted to thank you for just twirling your hair and not eating it, for me. Just twirling it!"

And then he patted me on the shoulder and walked out of the tea bar.

Thanks, strange old man, for that unsolicited opinion. It is ever so gratifying to hear that you approve of what I do with my hair on my day off.