Me and my bangs in happier times
What possessed me to do this!? Why did I ever think that bangs would be a good idea? I’m never, ever doing this ever again. (Side note: If I had a dime for whenever I said that during this process I’d be a rich woman, LOL!)
What the hell!? My leg hair, the hair on my big toe, my mustache, even MY CHIN — why does the hair grow so fast anywhere else except for where I actually want it to grow??
I must invest in a company that makes bobby pins, seeing as how I’m probably keeping the entire bobby pin industry in business. I walk around leaving a trail of bobby pins in my wake! I find them in the shower, the corners, the kitchen counter, my nightstand, and I may or may not have found a bunch around my feet in HIIT class at the gym.
I also may or may not have seriously considered picking one of them up and using it to put my bangs back.
This freakin’ cowlick! how lots of cans of incredibly extra hold hairspray will this take!?
If I put on this cray-cray pair of false lashes, it’ll distract people from checking out my cowlick. Yeah, that seems perfectly logical…
Good grief. I’ve only been growing out these bangs for five days, but it feels like five YEARS.
I feel like a shaggy sheep dog…
I am starting to feel personally angered by my baby hairs, because they absolutely refuse to listen to me. RUDE.
What must I do today to get these out of my face? braid them? twist them? Slick them back? wear a headband? A hat? F*ck it. maybe I’ll just wear that itchy blue wig I got from party City, considering that that would be much easier than taking care of these bangs.
I’m never, ever, ever getting bangs ever again.
Your friendly neighborhood appeal addict,
Karen
