She was born with a full head of hair. I mean it was glorious, amazing, and everyone loved it. Every single person who saw her commented on how much and how amazing her hair was. As she got older it never really fell out, it just got these awesome blond highlights. People would pay hundreds of dollars to get natural highlights like these. I never cut bangs into her hair. I remembered my hair from the 80s and never would my daughter have to suffer that dreaded blunt bang. Never!!! So tiny pigtails and hair barretts were a staple in our house. Once when she was around 3 she got into some scissors and trimmed a bit off, but only a little. Enough that we had to take her in and she became the most fashionable 3-year-old with her bob. She totally pulled it off. Again the comments on her hair came rolling in.
I think it must have gone to her head. She began to tell people she was going to become a hair stylist. Originally it was doctor, but now it was hair stylist and fashionista. She practiced wearing different clothing styles and different fake jewelry, but she must have tired with these because at the ripe old age of 5 she decided that she was going to put her hair stylist techniques to the test.
She came downstairs shirtless but with a blanket wrapped around her head. She complained of how cold she was, but didn’t want to put a shirt on or anything like that. I thought nothing of this. She asked for a yogurt and went to sit down at the table with the blanket still wrapped around her. She looked like a nun. She began to stare at me. Really just stare me down. What did she want? What was she trying to say? I had no idea. Finally, she came back to the living room with the blanket just around her shoulders now. Something was different. She was different. Did she put a ponytail in her hair? Did we need to brush it? Then slowly the light bulb went on. She had cut her hair. I mean like she really went to town. She had bangs! Those dreaded bangs I had tried so hard to avoid! The left side of her hair was virtually gone. The back was various lengths. Um… this was more than just a trim off the end. This was a butcher job. This was like you slept with gum in your mouth and it got everywhere so your mom had to just chop it out willy nilly.
I was too tired to yell. When you get to your 4th kid doing ridiculous stuff you just lose the will to yell. It will do no good. I just looked at her and told her we would have to cut it. That in the end it may not look good. I told her it would be short. Very short. No more ponytails, no more pigtails. I told her she might cry when she sees what it looks like. I said that she did it, so she had to just deal with it. She took me upstairs to show me where it went down. She had cut all her Barbie dolls’ hair too. She took all the hair from everyone and placed it in her toy kitchen sink.
We went in to get it fixed. She wore a vest and fake pearls. She is her own glamorous girl. I sighed. She may have to have some type of pixie cut. I know it. We warned her. She knows it. In the end she survived. I survived. She showed us and herself that she has her own sense of autonomy and bangs can be great. I guess 5 isn’t too young to start pushing for your own sense of self and identity. She doesn’t love or hate her hair, but she does love the bangs. Those stupid bangs I fought so hard to avoid.