I’m a fan of bangs… again. Seems that bangs come in and out of my life like the ebb and flow of the tide, like the waxing and waning of the moon, like something else poetic and pithy.
Sometimes bangs work, sometimes they don’t and I am the victim of a ‘bang intervention.’ Sometimes they were permed and pressed and teased, sometimes they are awkwardly short (or dreadfully long and dusting one’s eyelashes) and sometimes, friends, sometimes they were shorn by someone of ill experience. Yes, I’ve botched my own bang trim in the attempt to achieve something ‘pixie’ and ended up with a mess, but I was in college at the time and both confident as well as poor… but now I am referring to the “MOM CUT.”
Going through photos at my grandmother’s recently I stumbled across this one. I noticed the bangs straight away.
“Uh, Mom, did you happen to cut my hair as a child?”
to which she responded: “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Er, no reason in particular.”
Exhibit A:
Like one inch of hair across my forhead, lopsided and what is that little dangling ‘chad’ thing on the left? Me thinks she missed a spot.
She didn’t get much better with time either.
Exhibit B:
I think she had a problem with the left side, what is that?
In her defense, I think she studied bang trimming in the school of her mother.
Exhibit C:
The prosecution rests. It would seem my mother executed the bang trim MUCH much better hers did so all is forgiven. But it would also appear that the left side was problematic to all.
Now what did we learn today? Unless professionally trained to do so, do not, I repeat DO NOT trim one’s own hair or that of a small, vulnerable child.
Fortunately, my hairdresser gives out free bang trims between visits to avoid just such a catastrophe.
