Bang! Bang!

I have bangs.

Fringe.

Whatever you want to call them. {I think it's cute when people call them fringe.}

For some reason the other day I decided I was going to cut my bangs. I pinned my hair bag, held my scissors...and chickened out. I couldn't do it. I couldn't chop my hair.

A few days later? I put my hair up. Parted where I wanted my bangs to fall, pinned it back, held my hair between my fingers, held up my scissors...and chickened out.

Today? Today was the same song and dance. Hair up, parted, pinned, scissors in hand, chickened out. I laid down, still sick. My hair still up, parted and pinned I laid there looking ridiculous. I lay there for about 2 minutes. I jumped up, grabbed the scissors, took a deep breathe...

and chopped my long hair off.

I immediately wanted to cry.

Then I put my big girl panties on.

I'm not in love with them, but I don't hate them. I haven't had bangs since the 7th grade, so it's going to take some getting used to. I like them more now than I did when I first chopped them. So that's good. Right?

Moral of the story? Don't make life changing decisions when you've been laying around sick all day.

But really when it comes down to it?

It's just hair...


brianne.renwick{@}gmail{.}com

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