Shampoo Conservation: Doing my part

When my sisters and I were growing up, my mom usually left our hair long. However, there was one fatally catastrophic day when we were all inflicted with hideous haircuts that subsequently lived in infamy because they were captured on film. In the known universe, there are about eight pictures of me between age 0 and 12. One of them is the first-grade school picture taken shortly after The Haircut. (A haircut so bad that it has become a definitive proper noun in my mind: The Haircut.) The Haircut was bad enough that when you look at the photo, The Haircut actually distracts you from the fact that I'm wearing a narsty blaze-yellow-tropical-floral shirt and that said shirt is buttoned wrong. The next time I risked a haircut was right around the time of high school graduation. Goodbye to 15 inches of hair. Hello cute bob. Then came a "trim" to maintain the cute bob, which horrifically converted itself into a butch manly pixie because the stylist was feeling adventurous and twitchy. I worked at Taco Bell that summer, where even the grand honor of being the Employee of the Week didn't make up for the fact that the unisex uniform + the bad pixie made me look like a dude. Many years of cutting my hair and growing it out and cutting it again ensued. Last Saturday, I risked a pixie cut once again. Pictures coming soon-ish. In the meantime, tell me your haircut successes and horror stories so we can commiserate in the comments!