I had a glass of wine before my hair appointment a couple days ago. Which is typically no big deal. Except this time when my hairstylist asked me if we were just doing the usual, instead of answering “yes” I blurted out the phrase that likely incites eyerolls and groans in hair salons all across the world: “Actually, I think I’d like to try something different.”
“What did you have in mind,” my stylist asked with remarkable patience and not an eyeroll to be seen.
“Bangs?” the wine in me replied, while grown up in me still had sense enough to turn it into a question. And widen my eyes in terror.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, looking at my bulging eyes with growing concern.
“No.” I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Just cut!”
So she did. And now I have bangs. And a bit of a love/hate relationship with chardonnay until the shock wears off.