An Ode to Bangs


Because sometimes we need to thank the fringe that has become our lifelong friend.


Dear Bangs,

    Ah, there you are. All of you, hanging out there. I raise my eyebrows so I may see your ends, criss-crossing like ice on a window, a web of wisps. The ultimate bell curve for this belle. How long has it been since we first met? I believe it was a life-changing issue of NYLON, with Mila Kunis as cover girl, rocking post Black Swan bangs in a way that finally said to me “I can pull that off.” Since that glorious day at Shear Shakti where you were born, I became a bangs girl for life.

 Thank you for framing my face, covering my five head and making me look more fashionable than my sweats would suggest. Because of you, I don’t have to worry about plucking my eyebrows every day. The acne goes unnoticed. When you stick from yesterday’s styling, there’s a quick fix, a hat for my bangs to peek through. When the fly-aways are flying, you stay grounded. You make me feel confident, mysterious, and glamorous even on my worst days of wear. I feel like I’ve joined the elite club of bang babes, from Bardot to Deschanel.

We’ve gone through many highs and lows. We shared a hair-raising moment when you were cut to split my forehead in half – back to eyebrow maintenance. Then you were too uneven, the product of a distracted stylist talking about her boyfriend’s band and flourishing her other hand, getting dangerously close to plucking my eye out. But bangs, you’ve always grown back to me. Even when I didn’t wash you for four days, in one wash you bloomed from your cocoon of oil and dirt.

I’m sorry for the day I took you to Super Cuts in a last-minute act of desperation and cruelty. You were botched, broken, and brittle, and I will never forget to treat you with the utmost care. I take you for granted, but that’s what happens when you’re always there. And you always will be, for as much as my doting mother may insist I have “such a nice forehead,” I’ll never leave you on the floor, swept up by a hairy salon broom.

My birthday is next week, but bangs, you’ve already given me so much that I’ll let it slide. You’ll be around for the next celebration and many to follow. So follow me through life, bangs. It’s gonna be a weird ride, but I’m happy to always have you as my copilot.

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