All I’ve ever wanted to was to be a Bangs Girl
‘She bangs!’ was always a caption in the beauty magazines of my youth :-(
by Amanda Ross
I've got dreams: to get married, write a book, have babies who will grow up to be hotter than your babies, sell this company for millions of dollars and cash the fuck out back to a mansion in Texas. But they all pale in comparison to my one true dream: successfully pull of bangs.
Bangs is my white whale, and my obsession with fringe can only be described as full-on bloodlust. I think about bangs, dream about bangs, dedicate entire Pinterest boards to bangs. But you know what I never do? Get fucking bangs.
It's not a fear of commitment thing, either. Bangs grow out, while I've literally once substituted my urge to get a haircut with a fucking tattoo (which I subsequently regret, obviously.) What is it about bangs that seem so utterly unattainable to me? Maybe it's because, in my mind, there are two breeds of Bangs Girls: Chic French Bang Girls, and Girls Who Look Like Virgins And Mothers of Three At the Same Time. And I just knooow that despite my significant forehead real estate that could probably use a set of hair curtains, I'd end up looking like that latter — because bangs aren't about your looks! They're about a state of mind, and attitude! So while my heart says Metropolitan Sophisticate With a Dark Secret, my mind is still firmly in Horse Girl Territory. Is this something to explore with my therapist? Or should I just fucking do it and know once and for all? If anyone has any great wig connects, pls HMU.