Adam whipped his arm up, tugging his sleeve down and indicating the two red rubber bands that were constantly on his wrist, which he used to - gasp - pull his hair back. That was what you did when your hair was past your shoulders, as Adam's currently was. Bob could suck it. "Stop being condescending. I was a greasy teenager. It is what it is and it has nothing to do with my hair, because I had short hair then. Back then I had cream. Which I don't now, because I haven't been zitty for about ten years."
He took a deep breath, looking at Bryar seriously. "Look. Polyjuice doesn't work on this. I'm not going to go messing with my chemistry and making things even worse - how would I polyjuice myself into myself? How does that even make sense. Let me tell you about your faulty logic, Bryar. I ask you one simple thing and you worry about the length of my hair and my zitty forehead and aren't helpful in the slightest. I want to not have to worry about whether I'm going to need to carry a stack of books in front of myself for the rest of the afternoon. You follow? My hormones are my problem, here."