I cut my bangs the morning my grandma fell down. She would not make it past the next few days. I stood in front of the mirror, with my baby whining in his bouncy chair next to me. I felt like a bad mother for leaving him there, but I had to do something. Drastic. I needed to look different because I felt different. My life had just changed forever. Mark the moment.
So I began to whack.
My sister called. She lives far away.
"Hi."
We cried. Baby finally distracted himself with his toys. My hands kept grasping at my bangs. They were short, smooth, blunt. I could run my fingers through them over and over again as I hung my head.
It is her hair. I got my grandma's hair and her eyes. My Maiden Name hair and eyes.
My little boy began to cry and we would see each other soon, anyway. Funerals make for great family reunions. I went to my son and felt relief in how he makes it so easy to put off my feelings. A two month old cannot understand a weeping mother and I don't want him to see me that way. We are a happy family. He needs a happy mother. I put off my feelings for a long time.
It was rainy this morning. Despite my best product-usage and straightening efforts, by the time I got to work, my bangs had swayed up to the side and my reflection reminded me of the early 90's. Not the look I was going for. I pinned them back. I'm not sure if my naturally wavy hair is meant for a blunt-cut-forehead-covering bang. They're getting longer and I can almost pull-off the side swept look. I kept thinking maybe it's time to grow them out.
But I think I'll trim them, tomorrow mourning.
5 comments:
Julie, I really enjoyed this post. You really are a great writer. I'm sorry about your Grandma. My heart goes out to you.
Sorry about your Grandma. :( I understand the pain of having bangs - I like the way bangs look on other people but I don't like styling them on myself - so then I get bangs and then I grow out my bangs and then I think "maybe I'll cut them again and give bangs another chance." It's a catch 22 really.
What a heartbreaking yet wonderfully written story. I miss my own grandparents--none of my grandfathers (I had two grandpas and two stepgrandpas) got to meet my husband, and I know they would have loved him. And I know my mom's mom would have LOVED Camryn. I comfort myself with the belief that Grandma knew and loved Camryn before she came here to be my daughter. :)
As for bangs...I love bangs. They're bold! They're empowering! There's something visceral about changing the frame of your face. It's like shouting to the world, "Look at me! Look me right in the face! I refuse to hide behind anything!"
Well, at least, that's how I imagine it is for other people. For me, bangs were ususally the unfortunate result of a long, boring afternoon and an impulsive decision to ruin an otherwise decent haircut. I could not cut attractive bangs to save my LIFE! The teenager me should never have been left alone with scissors or tweezers or any do-it-yourself beauty treatments. My freshman year of college, I nearly ripped off half my lower lip while trying out a chapped lip treatment from a magazine. I had to go to Spanish class with my lip bleeding like a stigmata. Yikes.
I think this great writing is a direct result of our favorite professor, Carl. Indeed you are beautiful inside and out, with and without bangs. I don't think I will ever try bangs again though. It was too painful growing them out the first time. Grandma Gunnell was indeed a faboulous lady, as was Grandma Kimber, I am glad I got to meet them both, and know they're proud of you!
Thank you for the story behind the bangs. That was very poetically written. I understand the feeling of having to do something drastic on the outside to match how changed you feel inside. People would do things like that in olden times. Wear mourning clothes, cut their hair, change something physical. It must be cathartic in some way to make such a change. I know that your grandmother misses you. Who wouldn't?
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