The Fifth Stage of Grief Is Cutting Bangs
OMG, I hate my hair! I’m almost 60, going on dead, and too old for my current hairstyle, and these damn bangs need to go!
I have an appointment with my hairstylist next week. I’m glad it’s still several days out. That gives me time to decide what I want to do with my hair. Like, will I change my hairstyle for the first time in 25 years? Highly doubtful.
At this point, my hair looks so bad I would gladly stand near an active volcano if that’s what it took to have the gray roots covered. It’s reached the stage where it’s been far too long since the last color and cut, and no amount of round brushing, flat ironing, slimy gels, and fervid prayer will tame it into submission. It’s dull, faded, frizzy, heavy, yet flyaway at the same time. If there were some sort of damaged hair contest, I would be standing before you with many awards.
I’ve also decided for the 40584058483 time to grow out my bangs. Speaking of awards, it turns out they don’t give you any medals or awards for the suffering you must endure when growing out your bangs, and that feels wrong.
I’m not saying I had a crisis a month or so ago, but I did trim my bangs without a second thought. The lesson of the day is to never root around in a kitchen drawer looking for scissors, a knife, or any other sharp object and then cut your own bangs with that object. Never, ever, EVER. It was like I was sick of my regular problems, so I cut my own bangs to get a few new ones started.
If you’ve ever had bangs, you know how slowly they grow. Please send me good wishes during this difficult time. As is the tradition, I will retreat from society and wallow in the Fifth Stage of Grief (AKA cutting bangs) until growing out is accomplished.
PS - For anyone thinking about getting bangs, I’ve been actively growing mine since 1977. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. How can chin hairs grow three inches in a week while I’m sitting here with these stupid bangs I’ve been growing out for most of my life?
ARRRGGGHHHH! The gray hair! The wrinkles! I’ve officially entered the grandma stage of life.
That’s better. But it’s all smoke and mirrors around here, with the hair color, the bangs to hide forehead wrinkles, the makeup…