Bangs, pt. 2

Back in July I wrote a post about bangs. I have a few more stories about bangs that I would like to write about today.

Let’s see, my friends and I were just starting to drive, so I think we were sophomores when it happened the first time. Everybody was doing this cool swoopy bang thing, and I was so sick of my boring haircut, so I thought, “Hey, why not give myself those swoopy bangs and then I’ll be cool.”

I started chopping. Yes, chop, not snip. Just a good ol’ fashion straight across cutting with scissors meant for paper. I did one side of my part, and then the other side of my part.

Oh, that doesn’t line up…

I did one side of my part, and then the other side of my part.

Wait a second…

I did one side, the other side… you get the picture. That, folks, is the tipping point for tears. I called my best friends, “Uhhh, guys!” They told me to put the scissors down and they’d be there asap to help fix what had been down.

While they were coming over, I convinced myself I knew what I was doing and so I kept chopping. Bad news bears. I’m not a hair dresser and I never will be.

The damage was too much for my friends to fix so we headed on over to Great Clips, except the “G” and the “R” were out on the sign, so that night it was “Eat Clips.” The hairdressers all gathered around and asked, “What the heck were you thinking?” I’ll never forget the humiliation as I tried to tell them what I was trying to do, holding back the tears, bottom lip quivering.

“It all has to go. There’s nothing else we can do.” At first, I thought she meant shave it all off, but I came back to reality, she just meant we’d have to cut some ridiculously short bangs and take about 4 or 5 inches off the rest of my hair so it wouldn’t look hideous.

Moral of the story, don’t cut your own hair unless you know what you’re doing. And when you think you know what you’re doing, believe me, you don’t.