From One Hundred Views of Marlys by Lynda Barry
This was exactly how my face would look when people would try to comb my hair out as a kid. I suspect that one of the reasons I’m so averse to going to the salon is the way that Katie, the stylist who worked on all of my friends in elementary school, yelled at me for having such knotty hair the first time I visited her. In what I can only imagine as retribution of a sort, she gave me a terrible bilevel and I looked like an unkempt, brunette Carol Brady.