36. Getting Bangs

A couple weeks ago, I got it in my head that I should get bangs. Blame it on a friend. I desperately wanted a change and bangs were suggested. It would be a good change, I reasoned. No harm.. right?

Little did I know that I was gingerly walking into an anxiety trap. The more I contemplated this decision, the more I became convinced.

Cutting your hair is permanent! Cutting the hair that is right beside your face is even more permanent. Then you want to cut it how short!? In what universe is this at all a good idea? Do you have any idea how long it would take to grow back out?

As a second grader, I decided bangs were not for me. I had my reasons. Don’t remember what they were, but I’m sure they were very good. What makes me think twenty-something me would like them any better?



Have to admit, they were kinda cute, though..

Much anxiety mounted as I researched bangs and thought about asking the hairdresser to cut them. Naysayers reminded me of my wavy hair and the permanence scissors bring. Encouragers told of how much they love their own bangs and claimed that bangs would look good on me.

The day came when it was time to get the haircut. In my anxiousness, I let the hairdresser quickly talk me out of having the hair snipped off. Really, a very logical decision, right?

Problem was, as soon as I walked away, regret almost as strong as the anxiety had been came over me! What? (If I were to be honest, I knew this would happen.)

So for the rest of the week I endured this mix of anxiety and regret. Five days later, I recruited one of those kind encouragers to go back with me to the hair salon and hold me accountable.

I sat in the chair once more. The hairdresser knew what she was doing; I knew I could trust her. Still, just sitting in the chair caused anxiety. “Once it’s done it’s done”, played through my head. The scissors are brought close and the hairdresser asks one last time, “Are you sure?” I answer with an affirmative mostly just to take a punch at the fear taking over my brain.


It’s done.

First impressions are of shock. I just smile because if I don’t I might cry. It’s really done.

My encourager says it looks great. The hairdresser says it looks great. I don’t know what to think, other than it’s really done.



A couple days into this new (or old?) haircut I can say I actually really like it! At least the regret/ anxiety is gone! So until my stubborn mind decides it’s time for another change, I’ll be content with my bangs.



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