This is a perpetual, vicious cycle that I know many of you can relate to. For the past month, I’ve been trying to make a decision and going back and forth so much it’s maddening.
I was determined to let my bangs grow out again, right? RIGHT? I swore I would! But I even told my hair stylist when I went in last time to have them trimmed & shaped for growing out that I’d probably be back in a month to have them lopped off again.
I was so close, too, when Felix was born. They were almost grown out. Then I had some kind of hormonal spazz attack and went out a few weeks after he was born, to have them cut shorter than I ever have. And oh, did I regret it.
But I have decided that I happen to rock bangs – and they’re great for hiding behind when you’re an exhausted parent. I fantasize about our trip to Basque every single day and my imagining involves me in lots of cute, black clothing and maybe using the word “sling-back” while packing, strolling down alleys with a cute scarf, long dark hair and chic European girl bangs. Can you see it?
(It’s true, every decision I’ve made the past couple weeks has been made with Basque in mind. Every time I buy something, “will this be a cute shirt to wear while inhaling tapas?”)
I’ve dug through all my old photos to build my case. By the time I’d moved to Prague, in 2004, my bangs were completely grown out and my hair was down past the middle of my back. (I’m amazed when I see these photos now… why the f*ck did I cut it? The Czech hair stylist was terrified to do so – I went from middle of my back to just below ears. She asked if I was sure for half an hour. But I’d had short, short hair from 14 up till I grew it out this time.)
Anyway. I decided that the no-bangs thing looked really hot on me. At the time. When I was at my most svelt – thanks to a regime all-weekend long dancing, copious amounts of ecstasy, Tullamore Dew, coffee, a toxic relationship, bipolar-ness, and, finally, weeks of hiking up and down Lisbon’s streets. (The tilted streets of Lisbon put San Francisco to shame.) I would love to get back to that shape again, but obviously, doing lots of drugs is out of the question. I wonder if lots of walking & power yoga can elicit similar results? Something tells me no. But I can try!
But I’ve recovered lots of pictures from before my bangs had grown out & my hair was long, and after I’d had my bangs AND my hair cut and I think I’ve come up with a convincing argument. Behold, the chameleon that is me:
This was my, “OH MY GOD, I DIDN’T APPRECIATE HOW SVELTE I WAS!” moment.
This was right after I got my hair cut, in Prague. I should hate this picture – I look like a dork and I always think someone is going to look at this and think, “mullet.” But I remember this hair & I loved it & I love the bangs. My favorite thing was that this always looked best when I slept in & slept on it. And that’s always my goal – not having to get up early to wash my hair.
Same deal. Mr Nikki’s first comment to me, upon seeing a photo (cause we met online, ya know) was to tell me that I had a “striking jaw line.” Well, it was certainly a unique compliment.
This is not a good picture. I had no makeup on and no sleep. (Amsterdam, 30th birthday.) Oh, and I think I’d probably been crying a lot & was pissed off since that’s mostly what I did when my ex was around. But it’s the same cut as the first. And I like my bangs.
Me & Poseidon in ‘dam!
I am making the best.face.ever here. But look at my cute bangs! This was shortly before I left Prague. I’m hanging out at Vitkov.
It’s true. I do love nerds. I loved this hair. This was Portugal.
Oh, wait, no – I loved THIS hair. This is my favorite, ever. This was BEFORE I left Philadelphia to go to Prague. You see? Why the hell did I cut it?
Wheeee! Portugal. I think I’m smiling because I had great hair.
Wisconsin, a couple years ago. See? Still rockin’ the bangs.
No makeup! I can’t decide if I look 12 or much older than I really am?
Oh, yeah. I loved this hair, too.
Portugal! Happy about my fabulous hair!
Prague. Wondering why the hell I cut my hair. But at least my bangs are cute.
This was Prague, before I went and cut it all off. It was so cute! Why, oh why!
Oh. There’s no bangs here. But I posted so many dorky photos of me I felt compelled to balance it out with a couple where I actually look GOOD.
I loved this hair, too. I got compliments on this. This is what I’m going for again.
Oh, so sexy, no? But see… BANGS!
Another of the previous haircut. BANGS! My case is made. In all my favorite photos of myself, I have BANGS. So I feel justified in getting them chopped tomorrow.