When the story begins, I am a Caucasian college freshman girl. I have blond hair, and you can tell. When I go cycling on stationary bikes in the gym, I like to tie my hair up in a high blond ponytail, such that it swings madly and almost rhythmically. I enjoy the occasional brush against the sweaty nape of my neck.
In the middle of the story, I am no longer biking. In fact, I have turned against the activity. I scorn and deride exercise bikes and the people who straddle them.
At the end of the story, I am no longer Caucasian. I am still blond, but you cannot tell.
