Woe Is Me

There's a thing I've been struggling with for years, decades, actually, and I've just given up. Thrown my hands into the air and resigned myself to my fate. It's not going to get any better and there's nothing I can do about it. They've won. You know, them, the people behind it all.
   I just cannot get a good haircut.
   No matter what I try, where I go, how much I pay, how much I tip, it just doesn't matter. I can't get a good haircut. The haircuts I get aren't astonishingly bad - most of them - but they're not particularly good either. Men barbers or women hairstylists, it seems none of them can give me a decent cut.
   At first, years ago, hairstyles were so terrible that you couldn't really tell if I had a good haircut or not, nobody had a good one so I fit right in. But after disco died and then after Regan stopped being President things changed. You could get a good haircut. Or so I thought.
   Turns out good haircuts for men are like cover models on women's magazines: nobody looks like that, it's all Photoshop magic.
   There was guy back in San Antonio, his name was JB and he had cut my father's hair in decades past - no lie. JB gave good hair. He'd been doing it forever, longer than my father had been alive, and he could do no wrong. But JB was old and growing older, he came into his barber shop less and less frequently, leaving me to the tender mercies of his second-in-command, who was bald, or a lady barber who meant well but just didn't have the skills. I long for the days when could wander into JB's and never worry that I would come out looking like an escaped mental patient.
   I need a haircut right now, this very second. Have for at least a week but I've been putting it off. I just don't want to be disappointed any more.