The curse of the bad hair cut.
I've been had, again. For some reason I always fail to learn my lesson, I can't get my hair cut in chicago. I need to just let it grow out and deal with whatever it looks like. Instead, I insisted on getting my hair cut by a Venezuelan lady with broken english. "Leave it longer" really means giving someone a semi-buzz cut that is longer on the top and really short on the side. At first, I looked like a twelve year old Nazi boy ready to sign up for the army. Now, I look like a rectangle with big ears. I can't even do anything in terms of styling it, "I'm hideous." The only bright side is that I can laugh at it, maybe my self-conscious ways are lessening. I guess I'll just wear hats until it grows out. Here's to hats for the next couple weeks.