Chart-toppin' hair

I got a haircut a couple of weeks ago.

Let me preface all of this by saying that I am extremely picky about my hair, but not in the way that most girls are. I will go from having hair below my shoulders to a pixie cut without a second thought. I don't understand people who fret about whether they should risk dying their hair at home--I have handed over a large amount of money to the L'Oreal corporation throughout the years, along with Clairol and whoever owns Manic Panic now. I have cut my own hair on many occasions and the only thing that stops me from doing that all the time is that it doesn't look good for as long as a professional cut--but it's kickass for a good week or so. I'm picky in that I want it choppier than almost anyone will give me and I want an interesting haircut and I fucking hate it when they insist on blow-drying it with a round brush. The best haircut I ever had was last year when I went to this punk rock girl and told her to give me any kind of short haircut she wanted.

So, anyway, a couple of weeks ago I got what was supposed to be this haircut:


Which is adorable. And in theory, it's a very similar haircut. She actually listened when I told her my hair is deceptively thick and she razored the hell out of it. But I don't know if it's that my hair just won't do this or she cut it a little too short or I'm just not cute enough for this cut, because it's not working out. I will have it looking acceptable in the morning before I leave the house, then I'll run to the bathroom after a couple of hours of class and, oh, look, there's Pat Nixon.


Which is horrifying and also defies understanding, because Pat looks like she had some seriously high-maintenance hair. How is it that a couple of hours spent on something other than tending to my hairstyle leaves me with a Republican Helmet Coif?

I'm hoping that a couple of weeks of growth will solve this problem. Thank all that is holy, it's already outgrown the default it had for the first week or so, where I looked like I was just about to go grab myself a Bartles & Jaymes and order my 6-year-old to the Seven-'Leven to pick up a couple packs of Kools. At least it makes a cute ponytail.