You know that bowl-cut some unfortunate people winded up having in their childhood? Well, I was one of them. My dad did actually put a bowl on my blond head and used the plastic edges as a map when cutting my soft baby hair. It took a pre-teen tantrum to get him to book me an appointment with an actual hairdresser, although in hindsight it might have been my mother finally realizing that my sharp bowl-cut did nothing more but to increase the albino chinese-look I had lived with most of my life. My little sister suffered at the same scissors as me, although she took the rebellion even further and gave herself a buzz-cut at the age of 6. Now, as we are both in our 20s we cannot help but blame our dad for ruining all chances of ever sporting a sharp, french style bob without getting painful flashbacks to our childhood kitchen.