Dang Bangs

After arriving home from work yesterday and realizing I looked a mess, I did what any rational (ahem) female would do, and decided I should cut my bangs. Just a quick snip, no need for a salon, right? Anyone who knows me probably uttered some form of "Oh honey, no" after reading that sentence. I have always found haircuts a little traumatic, and in my early twenties (okay, okay, my WHOLE twenties) I would often come home and cry as if my life were ruined following a haircut. My roommates were always a little dumbfounded, because usually it looked pretty much the same as it had before, only shorter. But being the good sports they were (thank you Amelia & Cassandra) they were always sympathetic and encouraging, and a day or two later we'd usually have a good laugh and eye roll about the whole ordeal.

Now this is not the first time I've had bangs, but it is the first time in the last decade for sure. My first go at bangs was sometime around third grade. It's worth mentioning that this was also the year I decided that my stick straight, fine hair needed a perm. Witness those results:

Note: I have no idea why there is a line drawn through this picture. Beth scanned it for me from an old church directory she found back when she worked for FBCE. Apparently we were blacklisted at some point. I jest, I jest.

So yeah. Third grade was not my finest year. (But isn't my little brother absolutely precious in that suit??) Third grade was also the year of mean teachers and multiplication tables. Seriously - kids were throwing up and peeing their pants in class constantly that year. According to my mom, so many parents complained that the principal sent all of the third grade teachers to sensitivity training. (I'm sure they loved us SO much more after that.) I blame my lifelong hatred for mathematics and public speaking solely on Mrs. Bullock, for making me stand in front of the entire class all alone until I could correctly recite my multiplication tables. I don't remember much about elementary school, but I certainly remember third grade. And with that hair, how could I forget?

I seem to have gotten off track. Back to the bangs. I gave them another go in 7th grade. That time they were paired with braces and flowered rompers, and I only wish I had a picture I could show you. I may have to find one to post at a later date. The best way to describe them would be to imagine draping a daddy long legs or two over your forehead. They were sparse...at best.

So last night's little styling disaster was minor in comparison to my history with bangs. But really, you'd think I would know better by now.