I have a dead animal on my head. Or maybe, depending upon the velocity of the wind, a bird nest. I’m trying to grow out my bangs, you see, and it’s possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done, with the exception of not eating an entire bundt cake last night.
There’s a simple reason I’m growing them out: Zooey Deschanel. That chirpy little woodland creature has ruined bangs for me. Oh sure, they look great on her, and she’s gorgeous. They look good on me, too. I’ve had bangs since roughly 2003, excepting a few times here and there where I got lazy and didn’t cut them for months on end, but that was less a fashion effort and more a “EH WHATEVER I’M HARDCORE” from the couch. However, in the last two years, people have been comparing me to Zooey. And no, this is not me passive-aggressively intimating “I’m as hot as Zooey Deschanel, tee hee” because WHAT LOL NO so much as people see “brunette with bangs wearing vaguely indie style clothing” and then have to make sure I know about Zooey’s existence. Yes, I know about Zooey’s existence. I find her grating in everything I’ve seen her in with the exception of Elf, and She and Him ruined M. Ward’s solo career for me and I will never forgive her for that. Girl knows her style, though – it was apparently awesome enough that Katy Perry felt the need to copy it, so now I occasionally get compared to Katy Perry too (see above regarding WHAT LOL NO for that one too).
So goodbye, bangs. We’ve had some great and some truly terrible runs. I’ve trimmed you at least 100 times when I was too cheap to get a haircut. Remember when I decided to do my bangs a la Bettie Page my senior year of college, curling the ever-loving shit out of you? Remember when I let you hang in my eyes convinced that people would ignore the fact that I was running into walls because I looked like Jessica Rabbit? Or hey, more recently when after half a bottle of wine I decided that I was madly in love with Rooney Mara’s blunt cut and sported those godawful little short bangs for two months pretending that I totally meant to shear them that short? Yeah. Memories.
But it’s time. I’m growing you out. It’s a nightmare. You get twice as greasy twice as fast since you’re too long not to press against my forehead. You frizz when you’re freshly washed. And the slightest breeze kicks you up and makes you go freakin’ everywhere. But I will persevere. You hear me, bangs? I’m not going to give up. I’m not going to punk out and trim you, even though the urge is SO STRONG right now that it’s all I can do not to reach for the scissors. I am fierce, bangs. Together, we will have LAYERS, you hear me? LAYERS. And it will be epic.
Now get your shit out of my eyes oh jesus god why didn’t I pack a headband whyyyyyyyyyyyyy.