Beauty Confessionals: I cut my own baby bangs for years and it went as badly as you’d imagine
It’s happening again. I can feel it. This time I fear I won’t be strong enough to resist. The call is all too familiar to me now and I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m watching myself, as if from outside my body, frothing at the mouth, eyes wild, wielding a pair of blunt kitchen scissors like a madwoman, ready to…
…the joke is that I’m a werewolf, guys. A baby bangs werewolf.
I don’t know what my problem is. Everything about them is wrong for me: they’re hard to pull off, not flattering on my round face, evoke an overly-kicky vintage vibe I can’t really justify with my clothing choices, and require massive upkeep. Oh, and they’re incredibly hard to cut. And yet, I’ve been trying to make baby bangs work for me at least once or twice a year since 2011.
It all began in 2009, when a cooler-than-me friend offered to cut me blunt bangs during a rainy study abroad night in England. I’d wanted bangs forever, but my various hairdressers had cautioned against it. Unflattering, they suggested, “a lot of look.” “That’s bullshit,” said Laurel, a noted bangs-haver herself, wielding her scissors and promptly rendering me be-banged.
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