I got a haircut last weekend and, as I was feeling dangerous, gave in to the suggestion that my mom pick out the style. Plus, she paid for it so I figured it was fair.
I've decided that I either look like Karen O:
Or Fabienne in Pulp Fiction:
Or maybe just a mid-18th-century boy who wears britches (no picture for that ... you can imagine it).
Hair is such a difficult thing. Especially now that I have allllll this time to obsess about it.