You decide to get help from someone who works there. You turn to leave the changing room, but stop when something soft brushes your face.
Looking around the small room, you don't see anything. Then a lock of your own hair falls in front of your eyes.
You stare at it cross-eyed for a second, then brush it away and look at yourself in the mirror again. You're startled to see your hair has grown nearly a foot long. It grows longer and longer as you watch incredulously. It falls over your shoulders and inches down your back and chest. It's a luxurious sandy color, and looks very smooth and soft. This hair is nowhere close to the kind a guy would want, yet something about it excites you the same way the blue jeans did when you put them on.
As your hair continues growing, you stand frozen, eager to see if it's ever going to stop. It passes your butt and your knees, and falls onto your feet before it finally seems to stop. You shuffle about, watching the hair ripple around you, its last several inches dragging lightly on the carpet. It frames your thin body beautifully. Realizing you just considered yourself beautiful, you blush. Still, as strange as the feeling is, it's a good feeling and part of you wants it to stick around.
Part of you also wants to know exactly what's happened to you, and why. Maybe it's time you got some help.