Butchered Bangs
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Bangs have been a conundrum in my life since I was a child. You wouldn’t believe all of the butchered bang pictures in my photo album! Its sad and scary, really.
I have pretty much always had bangs. When I was a younger girl, I remember growing them out a couple of times but maybe weeks after this feat was done, I’d ask for bangs again or, Good Lord, cut them myself. MISTAKE!
As I said, my photo album from childhood is littered with pictures of lop-sided bangs, bangs so short they resemble the picture I’ve added, and bangs that had no explanation as my mom would claim, “You kept moving!” Yea right.
When my son turned 5, he decided that he could cut hair as he graduated from the make-believe beauty school that apparently resided in his closet that I had not idea existed.
I’m sitting there finishing up my breakfast, after feeding the two wild animals also known as children when my daughter, whose hair I had finally gotten perfect, in my opinion, comes down the stairs saying, “Look mommy, I have a new hair-do.”
As I looked up from the book I was reading while eating, I about fell out of my chair as this child who I didn’t even recognize walks up to me pointing to her non-existent row of bangs.
My son is now descending the stairs with the scissors that did the butchering and says, “Did you see what I did to her hair?” You know those moments where you have an out-of-body experience and then have a come apart followed by rage? No? Well, I had the trifecta of a mommy who had put up with the last of a series of unfortunate and irritating events and came at my son like an insane person.
After I let him know not-at-all gently that this was not okay, he retired his scissors, handed in his make-believe diploma, and swore to never cut hair again.
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Thank you TED for the perfect depiction of my poor daughter who befell my son’s scissors.
Not kidding, her bangs were cut to her scalp. I have no idea how she didn’t lose an eye in the process of the bang mutilation.
Moving on . . .
Bangs had a whole new meaning after all of my hair fell out over 2 1/2 years ago after years of stress finally came to an end and I fell victim to a lovely little pain in the ass disease or whatever called Tellogen Effluvium. Yes, after my life had finally settled down and I was happily remarried, having only been married 6 months, my hair began to fall out and when it was done, I was bald from head to toe.
All of my worries about my bangs seemed to melt away and I feared I’d never have hair let alone bangs again . . . but by the grace of God, my hair came back and so did my, “To have bangs or not to have bangs?”
Such a stupid thing to concern my person about but there it is, I’m sometimes ridiculous.
The bang saga continued the other night after a long day of work, poor sleep the night before, and a foggy brain to boot. I decided my bangs, yes I still have them, needed a trim and I forgot that carnal rule about not cutting your bangs wet cuz they shrink once dry.
Well . . .
I now have butchered bangs of my own doing and I’ve had to pin them back or use a headband because of it. I’m nearly 46 years old and a veteran bang wearer and for some reason this bang phenomenon alludes me even to this day, I still can’t get it right. Why is this?
Sometimes I look at the silly things that I concern myself and just shake my head. And believe me, I know that there are horrible things to concern ourselves about like mean ole Irma and all of her other little hurricane children that want to plague us. Plus all the other million sad and horrible things happening on our planet currently.
Sigh . . . if life was simple about, “To have bangs or not to have bangs,” we’d sure live in a much more peaceful world, wouldn’t we?
Love y’all!!♥
