My hair, my precious hair

Today I handed in my first "exam" paper. It was a nasty little SOB on Don Delillo's, in my opinion, god awful and highly overrated Underworld. Only 5 more to go now... Seeing as I survived this ordeal, I decided to treat myself to a haircut. It had been a few months and my hair started doing a weird outwordsy flippy thing. I've never had much luck with hairdressers and this experience wasn't, as to be expected, any different. I just wanted it trimmed but came out looking like a nun. It was bad, so very bad. All I could do to keep myself from a) crying or b) slapping the woman at Kreatos in the Nationalestraat (Antwerp) was to go home and salvage what was left of my ever shortening hair. I frantically went to work with a pair of scissors, shampoo and a blow dryer and this is the final result. Trust me, you don't want to see any before shots. They will already haunt me and the people I encountered on my way home forever.