Things you’ll most likely never hear a woman say pretty much ever:
“Bangs are just soooo easy to style and take care of!”
“I love how great my bangs look while I’m trying to grow them out!”
“I have never, EVER regretted getting bangs.”
The fact is, bangs take a lot of maintenance, styling, and constant upkeep in order to look good, much less great. If you’re wanting blunt bangs that fall within a centimeter of a certain location near your eyebrows, you’re looking at trims every 4-6 weeks, meticulous blow-drying, and the constant commitment to never just “letting the bangs be.”
Then there are the other problems that no one seems to talk about (so maybe it’s just me)—the awkward gaps between where my bangs start and the rest of my layers in back come in, the fact that half the time, my bangs always initially get cut too short (making me look like I’m about 11 years old), and the fear I have of pulling my bangs straight back from my face when growing them out because I have a wide, high forehead that even Tyra Banks would be jealous of.
So why on earth have I followed a meticulous cycle of cutting blunt bangs EVERY SINGLE TIME I went to get my hair cut for the last, say, five years?
Because I’ll look at photos like THIS (circa 2014):
And THIS (circa 2012):
And I’ll be fooled into thinking that my bangs will ALWAYS look like that (not to mention conveniently forgetting that I was about 15-20 pounds lighter in both of these pictures thanks to rigorous training for a half marathon and marathon, respectively, thus giving me the most defined shape my face will probably ever be).
But somehow, now, over the past 7 months, I was able to retain in remembrance my distinct love/hate relationship with bangs (instead of just always giving them the benefit of the doubt right before the scissors started snipping), and when I got my hair cut a week and a half ago for the first time in about 7 months, I DID NOT HAVE MY STYLIST CUT BANGS.
(I’ll wait while you applaud wildly for my good sense.)
So here I am, with bangs that are finally (!) long enough to tuck behind my ears, rejoicing in the knowledge that I don’t need to panic if I forget to blowdry my bangs before going to sleep with wet hair and that I can now leave the house without ALWAYS taking a straightener to those suckers.
And here I will stay, for *at least* six more months (or however long it takes until I bother to get my hair cut again).
I’m a whole new woman, I tell ya.