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At 2:07 a.m., after three hours of combing through my hair, I found the culprit behind my itchy scalp. I zoomed in with my phone camera and, swallowing a gag, confirmed what I’d feared: At 25 years old, I had a case of head lice.

The children I babysit gave it to me as an anniversary gift this January, a celebration of 20 years since my first encounter with the bugs. I’d dealt with infestations at ages 5, 8, 12, 17, and now 25—so I knew my next steps. But I didn’t know why this kept happening to me.

I caught one of my early infections after a slumber party where we girls huddled shoulder to shoulder watching Amanda Bynes confess her love in What A Girl Wants. L

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