Confession Of The Month

I cut my own bangs.

Whew! What a relief to say that and not hide behind excuses!

When I go to get my hair cut, the stylist always asks if I cut my bangs. I usually have some lame, wishy-washy, hemming and hawing, before I say something along the lines of, "I did trim a bit a few weeks ago....."

Truth is I hate getting my hair cut. I tell a funny story (funny to me, but maybe not to my Mom!!) about how I trace my hatred of hair cuts to my Mom cutting my bangs, accidentally cutting my eyelid, and saying, "hold still, I'm almost done." That's not really the reason, but it makes people laugh, and as I have recently admitted, I lie all the time.

I hate sitting in that chair, forced to chit chat, while some one I do not know puts their hands on my person! I don't like how close the stylist gets, I hate it when a boob accidentally grazes me, and I have an old childhood fear of lice. Duh, stylists are super clean and they aren't going to give me lice, but if you grew up in the 70's and 80's you might remember the constant lectures about not letting people touch your hair, or share your comb or hats....it's carried over to being an adult and I shudder any time I see kids touching each other's hair.

So, I hardly ever get my hair cut. That means I either have to grow my bangs out, and frankly my forehead isn't made for that look, or I have to cut my own bangs.

I'm not saying I'm good at it. I'm just saying I cut them, and I'm not going to lie about it.

At least, I won't lie about it right now. My next hair cut is an entirely different story!