Not since the 5th grade...

Bangs. Never thought I'd have them again, but lately I couldn't help but long for straight, blunt bangs every time I saw a stylish girl walking on the street with her forehead fringe fluffing in the wind. I was so craving the look that I even convinced myself that my naturally wavy and frizzy hair could handle it - that's what straightening products and flat irons are for, right?!

So Saturday afternoon I strolled into the salon, confidently sat down in the chair and enthusiastically stated: "I want bangs!" There! That was easy! But the more the stylist snipped my hair, the less confident I felt about my decision, prompting her to promise she would ask before she cut. I accepted the plan, content that I could regulate the severity of the shortness, and I told her not to worry, I wouldn't get mad at her.

As she held the piece of hair that would be the first lock of bangs, she looked at me in the mirror and tilted her head with an inquisitive look, seeking my approval to cut. The fear in her eyes must have been a reflection of the anxiety in mine, "Okay, " I said resolutely, "just cut it." We both yelped as the long hair fell to the floor. "Keep going!" I urged her. "Cut!" As I watched more long pieces fall and more short hairs frame my face, I felt the girl in the mirror transforming into the stylish girls on the street.

For the next few days I enjoyed my fun new bangs and the exclamations of friends and coworkers when they saw my new look. It was startling to catch a sideways glimpse of myself in a store window and remember, "Oh yeah! I have bangs now!"

But everything changed with Wednesday's weather - rain and 75% humidity. Not since the 5th grade have I had to deal with an out of control mess poofed on my forehead. Every piece of hair was curling in a different direction, and none of them would fit under a head band, pull back in a ponytail or lay flat no matter how hard I coaxed, yanked or pleaded. It was like they were taunting me with bottled up bang rambunctiousness suppressed for the last 17 years.

I managed to get through the day with my dignity still in tact (nevermind the ducking around corners to avoid seeing people and vowing Lauren - who sits four feet from me all day every day - to never mention this frizz again). And as for the bangs, they've been warned that if they ever, EVER! act that way in public again, I know where my Dad keeps his Flowbie, and it'll be off with their heads!