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| As you can see, my cowlick has other ideas about being perfectly straight. |
When I was little, my mom would trim my bangs. When they were getting too long, and into my eyes, she would wrap a towel around my neck and sit me on the kitchen counter. Then she would pull out a roll of sellotape in the U.S. known as Scotch tape. After ripping off a long piece, she placed it across my bangs to ensure sure she had a straight line to cut them. To make sure they were perfect. It always felt a little special when she did this.
Yesterday I noticed my bangs were getting quite long again. I trimmed and trimmed, trying to emulate the hairstylist I see. Trimming just a bit at a time with her hands flurrying across my forehead. Well, I didn't flurry, but I did cut a bit at a time. Trying not to
look too blunt but more blended as she does.
I thought my results were not great but acceptable.
This morning, however, I woke up, and when I looked
in the bathroom mirror, I noticed they were
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| Tada! |
still too long. I started using the same strategy I'd used yesterday and began to feel annoyed. Annoyed because I wasn't getting the result I wanted. Rationally I understand I'm not trained in how to properly cut bangs but it seems like it should be a fairly straightforward task to accomplish. Then I recalled my mom's technique. So I went to the kitchen and grabbed the sellotape. I placed it across my forehead. I trimmed and trimmed. Better.
I'll still fuss with my cutting over the next few days because it's not quite right, but it already looks so much better than it did yesterday. Thankful, this particular memory popped up as I looked in the mirror this morning, practical and special at the same time.
