We have to talk.
No, don’t try to cover my eyes, just let me say what I have to say. This has to stop. We go through this romance every couple of years and each time it ends the same way. We’re caught in a vicious cycle. It has to come to an end, so this is it. Bangs, we’re through.
It always starts the same way. We leave the salon all hopped up on product fumes. I feel like Zooey Deschanel. It’s like a fairy tale: you’re the bangs of my dreams and I’m your shining white forehead. We run around like the word ‘humidity’ doesn’t even exist, and no matter how much I flip you around you fall right back into place. I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I’ve finally hit the jackpot: perfect bangs.
But, the next morning, it’s always the same. I run my hands through my hair and something feels… wrong. Things always look different the morning after. We just stare in the mirror with silent regret as I try to tug and pull you back in the shape of the haircut I fell in love with. I rush out the door with some lame excuse about an early work meeting promising to style you later, but we both know it’s not true.
And it’s all downhill from there. I remember why I left you in the first place. You’re just too high maintenance. It’s always something with you: “Ooh, it’s too hot, I’m shapeless,” or “Ooh, it’s raining, I’m frizzy now,” or “Don’t wear hats!” I try to ignore it, pop on a cute headband or throw in some bobby pins, act like everything’s okay. We both know what’s happening. I’m just holding you back!
Don’t you dare poke me in the eye. Show some dignity. We both knew this was coming.
We’ve tried everything to bring that spark back: gels, creams, hot oils, every position I can imagine. All those accessories and gadgets, that’s just not who we are. It’s time that we both admit the passion is gone.
And don’t lay that guilt trip on me either, saying that I’m just dropping you because you’ve come into your awkward phase. I saw you splashed all over the news looking cute with Michelle Obama so you get no sympathy here.
Look, it takes two to make a relationship work, and I know I’ve made mistakes, too. I took scissors to you that night before Debbie’s bachelorette party and regretted it right away. I am truly sorry. Now we’re in all those wedding photos together and that’s something I can never change.
It won’t be easy getting over you. We had some good times: the blunt cut at Thanksgiving, that fringe thing we had at the Black Keys concert, the side-swept look that morning in the Adirondacks. God, you were beautiful that morning. I’ll never forget that. But the time has come for us to part ways.
I’m not saying it won’t be tough, but we both have to move on. You may work great for other people but for me—well, my crazy days of experimentation have to come to an end. It was a wild ride, but we’ve both grown out of each other.
And don’t come around here anymore, I’m really trying to make things work with this shoulder-length layered look.