The above picture was taken approximately 8 months after the initial haircut. It was much shorter, and much worse at first. I have no photographic evidence of the original catastrophe, but just listen to the story...

It all started in fourth grade. It was Thursday afternoon. I had just gotten home from school, and knew my mother was taking me to get a haircut that evening. I was excited for my haircut. I always looked forward to haircuts. Nothing made me feel more special than that half hour of undivided attention from a professional hairdresser, whose only job for those thirty minutes was to make me look like a superstar.