Humor piece
Hair nightmare hard to forgetWhy bangs are not for me.
I’m cursed with a forehead the size of Russia. I’ve learned to accept it and have gone bangs free for many years. I don’t have anything against bangs, but one event left me forever scarred. It’s a hair nightmare that I like to refer to as “Monster Bangs.”
I’ll never forget the day. I had an appointment for a new cut, this time with bangs. No big deal, right?
Bangs had always been harmless to me. They didn’t disguise my embarrassing cowlick, but they were an integral part of my childhood, as evidenced in pictures of my early days. But after a while I guess I grew tired of them and let them grow out.
When I was 12, I thought it was time for bangs again. I was on the brink of puberty, complete with body changes, skin breakouts and the sudden desire to impress my first crush.
Maybe bangs would give me more confidence, I thought. Besides, all the popular girls had them. Guys seemed to notice them. I just knew bangs would be the lifesaver I needed for my awkwardness and insecurities.
When Mom and I arrived at the salon, the owner informed us that my hair stylist was out sick that day. “But don’t worry, our new stylist, Jill, will be glad to cut your hair, honey. Just have a seat,” she said.
A lump started to form in my throat. I had never met this woman before, and I was going to let her chop up my hair? I almost protested but decided to stick it out. It’s just a haircut.
Everything was going fine — she shampooed me and brought out the scissors. A few minutes later, I glanced up from the chair and saw Jill grab a chunk of the back of my hair and pull toward the front. I tried my best not to panic, reassuring myself that Jill, being a beauty school graduate and all, had to know how to cut bangs.
So I went into daydream mode and imagined how wonderful I would look with my new ’do. Would my crush, Ben, notice me at school on Monday? The cheerleaders, otherwise known as the “The Perfect Bangs Squad,” might even asked me to sit with them. I could already feel my self-esteem soaring.
Taking a glimpse at the mirror again, I saw Jill snipping away, revealing my utmost fear. She had cut my bangs from the back of my hair! I now had 6-inch-long bangs, and it was too late to do anything.
I froze in the chair, too stunned to speak. Tears began to well up, along with fury at Jill for ruining my life.
Soon, she announced that she was finished and asked with a smile, “What do you think?”
Hmm, let’s see, with one haphazard move, you made an already awkward adolescent girl look even more awkward. I don’t feel too great.
I didn’t feel good again until my monster bangs caught up to the rest of my hair. Over time, I realized that bangs aren’t the ticket to popularity and self-confidence. I now expose my never-ending forehead to the world without insecurity.
posted by Lauren Champlin @ 5:18 AM
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