Bang, Bang, Bangs

Of course, as an undergrad, I still have to write very often. But, I’ve always had two types of writing – one that I do for myself and another that I am forced to do because of my academic requirements.

I’ve been using writing as a tranquilizer for over a decade now and I have pieces of which date back to 2005.

But I stopped.

So, I decided to try something new. I was bored, I’ve had the same haircut and hair color for as long as I can remember and people always decide to change their hair when life isn’t going so great.

Therefore, one Monday afternoon, I decided to be the embodiment of that girlie stereotype. However, since I don’t want to dye my hair and potentially make it really dry, I decided to cut it.

But, I did not go for the typical ‘chop-my-hair-off’ haircut. I went for something every child has gone through, except me. I got bangs, commonly portrayed as winter bangs. But it isn’t even winter yet, I realized as the guy was cutting my hair.

The immediate wave of regret hit me as the first strand of hair fell on my thigh; the voice in my head started yelling at me, “What are you doing? Stop!”

Of course, it was too late. This was my attempt at finding another form of therapy and I obviously should not be trusted to do that on my own anymore.

The bangs did not have any therapeutic effect, instead they just impaired my vision and itched my forehead.

To exacerbate an already hairy situation, the hairdresser decided to cut my bangs a little too long. He also decided to make it clear that he doesn’t like bangs.

When I initially told him how I wanted to cut my hair, he decided to voice his opinion about how much he hates bangs, all during the process of actually cutting my hair. At the end, he thought it was okay to make fun of how my hair looks by saying “welcome back to primary school”.

And then I almost cried, but at least my bangs hid that.