I am having serious issues with my bangs right now.
I know what you’re all thinking: “This is what it’s come to. She’s writing about her fringe.” Well, just before you take me off your google reader (do people still do that?), hear me out.
When you get bangs- which, let’s face it, is always always on a whim- you expect it to go a little something like this:
For a couple of weeks the Hair Gods of Fate (let’s call them L’Oreal and Elvive) actually let you have it, and you walk around on cloud nine, chic and suave (get it?).
Then the honeymoon ends and every morning- or sometimes mid-day, despite the mounds of product you’ve taken the precaution of using- you must contend with this:
THEN you get to the time of the bang cycle (must come up with a better name for that) when they are too long. L’Oreal and Elvive convince you that hey! How hard can it be? You can save yourself a few bucks and trim that fringe yourself. That’s how this happens:
All I wanted was to feel as so obviously fabulous as Anne Hathaway felt when she got her ultra sassy makeover by the style director of fiction’s version of VOGUE in The Devil Wears Prada; but instead I look like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.