Bangin’

“A woman who cuts her hair, is about to change her life.” – Coco Chanel                                 

When life seems to be spinning out of control, I do this thing wherein I drink two glasses of wine, grab my best pair of kitchen scissors, watch a couple YouTube videos, and then cut my own bangs. I know what you are going to say, probably the same thing my husband says, “What the hell are you doing? Go to a salon. You said you’d never do this again. Remember that time you cut your eye a little?” Blah. Blah. Blah. But calm down, I’m a professional.

I will first decide what length I want to go. I decide this by grabbing my hair from the back of my neck, and swooshing it down over my face, looking quite like Cousin Itt from the Addams Family (see below).

Minus the beret and groovy shades.

Then I think, hmm, about right here, holding my hand up to about the beret line. Then right before I make the first cut, I put the scissors down, flip my hair back into place, and text my best friend.

Me: I’m gonna cut my own bangs.

BFF: DO IT!

So then I flip my hair back. Then… ping.

BFF: Wait.

Me: Why?

BFF: Have you been drinking?

Me: Just wine.

BFF: How much?

Me: Like two.

BFF: Bottles?

ME: Glasses, bitch.

BFF: Where’s Jerimiah?

Me: Why?! He doesn’t care, he said do whatever.

BFF: Did he? Let me text him real quick like.

ME: No, stop! Okay, he told me to go to a salon.

BFF: So two bottles?

Me: No, dude! I can do it this time.

BFF: That’s what you said last time.

Me: Last time I was legit drunk. And I had the bad scissors.

BFF: Did you buy hair shears?

Me: Uh, no. Do you know how expensive those are? Whatever, I’m doing it.

So then I Cousin Itt it again, and just as I am about to lift the meat scissors to my forehead, Ping…

Jerimiah: Are you cutting your hair in the bathroom?

Me: Bitch! No. Leave me alone.

Jerimiah: This isn’t like a “new year, new you” thing. Think this through please.

Me: Leave me alone!

Scissors up. Then I realize if I cut where I want to cut, then I cut a lot more hair than I intend to. It’s not so much a bang cut, more like a hair cut and do I even want a haircut? Hmm. What about that video I saw where the girl leans over and lets her hair hang over and she cuts it at an angle?

Me: You know that video where the girl hangs her hair over and they cut it at an angle?

BFF: No, dude. No.

Me: But I think I can probably do it.

BFF: Remember that time you wanted me to dye your hair and we used all the holes in the cap and you had that layer of blonde only at the top and it was like three days before senior pics?

Me: Yeah.

BFF: Shit like that will happen if you do this.

Me: Damn it, man!

Then I stand in front of the mirror. Scissors in one hand, my phone in the other, and I wait for divine intervention. A sign. A signal that this is exactly what needs to happen right now, this very instant. Then suddenly. Ping…

BFF: Dude, I think maybe you should do it.

Me: Why?

BFF: Cause honestly, it’s your life and you only live it once, and who the hell am I or Jerimiah to tell you whether or not you have the forehead for bangs?

Me: Did you pour yourself some wine?

BFF: For sure.

Me: Want me to wait ten minutes then we can FaceTime and do it together?

BFF: Oh, no, for sure not, no. I’m not spiraling here, you are.

Then I cut my own bangs.

Listen, here is my point in as much as I have one: Sometimes when you need to feel a little, teeny, bit in control of your life because things feel like they are totally spinning out of control, then okay, sure, cut your own bangs, but try to limit your control to that. Just the bangs, y’all. Just the bangs.

M.

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