When my daughter was born, there were a lot of comments directed at my husband, like, “Oh wow, a girl. That will be expensive. Get ready for a lot of drama. Now you are outnumbered!” Dumb comments, as we have learned, all children are expensive in their own special ways, all provide unnecessary drama, and this household isn’t helped one bit by balancing by gender. It’s five people and a dog who ALL want their own way. If anyone has a simple remedy for this, please let me know.
And while we couldn’t anticipate anything past the present moment of marveling at our tiny little squish of a daughter, my husband did make the joke, “I hope when she gets to high school, all our high school styles come back and they wear the giant baggy sweaters and parachute pants.” He/we/she did not get this lucky. By the time she was in high school, low-rise yoga pants with crop tops were the rage. New fabrics had been invented, infusing spandex into everything. And our ’80s hairstyles of big perms and bigger bangs did not come back either. It was all long, sleek, middle-part hair. Sometimes, when I sat in the high school parking lot watching the girl gangs walk out, I was convinced human cloning was real.
Personally, I never had the ’80s perm with the frothy puff ball of bangs in the front. My husband did (his mother executing the frequent home permanents) and I thought it was spectacular. That is a story arc to explore on a different day. My high school yearbook makes me giddy, looking at the many girls and boys who barely fit their hair into the frame of the photo. I look relatively normal? It was like I had a premonition that backlit backcombed bangs suspended by Aqua Net would eventually not be a thing. I had no such premonition, but I never had the perm for two reasons. I have naturally very curly hair, so I didn’t “need” a perm, and I was a dancer and wore my hair in a tight bun six days a week. Bangs, like homework, were a high school inconvenience I found intolerable.
I’ve never been one to mess too much with nature. I figure if my hair is curly, I should just let it do its thing. Plus, I have a fantastic stylist who knows how to cut curls. Curly girls out there know what I mean. We have all had the moment when a stylist takes a step back from the ringlets and eeks out a long sigh as they ponder what to do. That is never a good sign.
So a few days ago, I decided I wanted a change. Nothing major. No buying a sports car or moving to a yurt. Just a little pick-me-up. If you are looking for a way to bring unintended joy to someone, tell your hairstylist you want to do something completely different. They live for these days.
I got bangs. I know. I surprised myself. There are many jokes about getting regrettable bangs after a breakup. This was not that. Just a little change, plus four inches off the bottom. Tiny small bangs but big impact.
It’s a little bit of a ’70s cut, and I’m loving all of that vibe. Once again, my hairstyle is not trending. I’m not in style per usual. But the cut does suit me. That’s what I’m trying to bring back. Not fitting in but doing what makes sense. If you run into me, feel free to compliment my glorious bangs. But you probably won’t recognize me. My new hair makes me look at least two months younger. My next appointment is already in the books.
I’m someone new and cool who requires a “bang trim”.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.