“It’s easy to cut your own bangs,” my mom said to me one day this past August. “You really could do it on your own.”
Well, let me tell you, it’s never a good idea to cut your own bangs.
As someone who loves her bangs but hates spending money to get them trimmed, I thought I’d be a little frugal and cut my own bangs right before Labor Day.
If I was really thinking, I would have waited a few days until I was with my family for an extended weekend in Columbus and asked someone to take me to an inexpensive place so I could get a bang trim and be able to see.
Instead, I propped a trashcan up in my bathroom sink and started cutting. It was going great. I was cutting them in a straight line, which is impressive if you know me at all. I even thought to myself that I was doing a great job.
I was getting cocky about it. Bad idea.
When I started to even them out a little bit, I made a mistake and took off more than I wanted, effectively giving myself lopsided bangs. Being the perfectionist I am, I tried to even them out, only to ruin them even more.
I. Was. Mortified.
I ran into my room and grabbed as many barrettes and bobby pins I could find to pin my bangs back in a little poof to hide what I did to them. And then, staring at my reflection in the mirror, staring at my bang-less reflection, I started crying.
First off, looking back, it’s ridiculous to cry over a bad haircut. When my mom and I would watch reruns of “America’s Next Top Model,” we would chuckle when people would cry over the makeovers they’d get. But I was so embarrassed that I’d ruined my bangs.
I called my dad in a panic and begged him to find all my headbands in my room and bring them to Columbus so I could have some cute hair accessories while I waited for my bangs to get back to normal. His response? He laughed at me, which only made me cry harder (What? I’m a drama queen).
That Friday, my mom texted me asking for a picture of my hair so she could try and fix it when she got to Columbus. I agreed to let her help try and salvage my bangs so they’d at least be one length. The problem with that was she was arriving on Sunday and there was a party at my grandma’s house on Saturday. I was not going to let anyone see my tragic hairstyle.
This past weekend, I realized that the shorter side of my bangs could be styled enough that my bangs would finally be in a straight line. Finally, I got my bangs back.
So, moral of the story is that very few people should trust themselves to cut their own bangs in an appropriate fashion. At least in my case, that is.
And that’s the story of how I got my bangs back.
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