Stop me before I cut again!

I have an affliction.  Not many people know about it, but my nearest and dearest understand the severity.


I can’t help it.  I LOVE BANGS.  And once every three years or so, I go and get bangs and I LOVE THE SH!T out of them for about a month, and then I weep for the next six months as I try to grow them back.

Sometimes, the result is very successful.

Cute, right?

But sometimes, it’s Bangs Gone Wrong.

Two years ago was particularly heinous.  Bad bangs combined with one of the worst haircuts of my life combined with being a new mother who had next to no time for hair maintenance.  I shudder to think of it.  And I refuse to post a picture.  No one needs to see that.

So fast forward to last night.  I had a dream that my beautiful Calgarian friend Karen (can you see this, Karen?  do you ever pop by here?) cut my bangs for me.  SEVERELY.  Like, SUPER SUPER short.  SHOCKINGLY short.  And while it was a bit of a shock, I also kind of loved them.

I have a bit of an addiction to super short bangs.  I inflict them on my offspring quite regularly.

The cuteness is totally genetic

So now, here we are.  Still a year short of my regularly scheduled bang-chopping, which I swore I would NEVER do again after the last debacle.  But Karen made them look SO GOOD.  And it coincided with my dream hair being VERY DARK and VERY GLOSSY.

The problem with this is that there are no “low maintenance” bangs.  They’re ALWAYS work.  And this totally is going against my current bohemian frame of mind.


Husbandio, HIDE THE SCISSORS.  I don’t know if I can resist much longer.