It all started when my husband mentioned he needed a haircut. I offered, but he declined.
On my way to the shower I stopped in front of the mirror, pondering my bangs. Time for a trim. And my special “notched” scissors would add some extra oomph. They look like regular scissors except they have little indentations all along the blade, so when you use them, they only cut intermittent strands of hair.
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t scream out loud. Then I saw the chunks of hair on the paper towel in the sink and no, I wasn’t imagining the three-inch gap above my right eyebrow. It was surreal.
My mind raced as I considered options… should I cut the other side to even it out? NO. That would make me look like Bette Davis without the curl and I wasn’t not young enough to emulate Katy Perry’s do.
Then I wondered if I should take a portion of longer hair and pull it forward to make more bangs? NO. What if I screwed it up worse?
How fast could I get an appointment with my hairdresser? And could she really help without chopping the rest of my hair super short to match? There was no way I could pull off a Halle Berry. Plus, I had to be at work in forty minutes. What was I going to do? I couldn’t call in with a bang emergency.
So, I got in the shower, closed my eyes and tried to pretend it was all a dream until I felt the bluntness against my finger tips. I hid until the hot water turned cold.
Back to the mirror. I swept what was left of my bangs over the nearly bald side in a comb over move designed to channel Audrey Hepburn. With a helmet of hairspray in place, I ventured out.
No one noticed at work and as long as I didn’t let the wind hit me the wrong way, I was fine.
When I returned home I wondered how long it would take my husband to perceive what I’d done.
Instead he mentioned getting a haircut again, so I re-offered my services.
Surprised when he said “Sure,” I asked if he really trusted me.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” he joked. “It’s only hair; it’ll grow back if you make a mistake.”
I could hardly contain my mirth as I showed him my gaffe. His eyes widened and he pronounced I would not be allowed to butcher his hair.
After dinner, we watched TV and he said I looked pretty.
To which I replied “Uh-huh, in spite of my bang snafu?” and—sweet, sweet man—he said, “Especially with your bang snafu.”
He’s a keeper.
PS: Subsequent to this article originally posted 11-28-10… I realized I’d been a victim of short bangs all my life, though #NotMyFault #RunsInTheFamily