1989 vs. 2008

Over the break I got my hair cut. Since I live in Virginia and my hair stylist lives in SLC, I have six months to carefully think about what I want her to do the next time I am in town, for my semiannual hair cut. (I know what you are thinking, I just can't bring myself to change.) For the past six months I have been very seriously entertaining the idea of cutting bangs. The last time I had bangs was in the 5th grade, in 1989. I've been reflecting back on the reasons that I grew my bangs out that first time nearly 20 years ago, and wondering if all of those same reasons will come back to haunt me if I accept those little scissor snips right in front of my eyes. I vividly remember the 5th grade, and I have equally substantial memories of what a painful process growing those bangs out was.

I had Mrs. Stoddard for 5th grade. She read novels out loud to us, like Summer of the Monkeys, The Secret Garden, A Wrinkle in Time, Lord of the Flies, and other greats. I can still clearly remember her voice. When she needed to grade papers or do other work, she would play her Bill Cosby records on the GIGANTIC record player console at the front of the room. I still love listening to Bill Cosby and to this day he reminds me of Mrs. Stoddard. "NOAH?..." My best friends were Alli and Jane as well as all of the boys in my ward. I played football at recess, and that year I beat Jeremy Clegg in the 50 yard dash to be the fastest person in the 4th & 5th grades. Secretly I never wanted to race him again because I knew that he would have beat me the second time, so I hung up my sprinting sneakers for good. I remember the girl that everyone picked on and still feel badly about not defending her. They teased her and called her "Aids," which I didn't participate in, but I might as well have because I didn't stop it either. I wonder what happened to her... The presidential fitness award was a big deal and I remember practicing the "flexed arm hang" but mostly worrying about the "sit and reach" because I have never been flexible enough to even touch my toes, more or less reach inches past them.

I had a perm (bangs included) and my primary teacher, Brother Mucha, called me "Poodle," which in looking back at pictures, I cannot blame him. My hair was ALWAYS unruly, and my bangs did this strange flippy thing out to one side. I could never get them to do that perfect forehead doughnut that was so popular. I don't know if it was because I just didn't care enough to put in the time and effort, or if my hair just refused. When my mother and I finally decided to grow them out, there was much discussion and probably tears over that incessant bobby pin that had to press those longish bangs back on my temple and out of my face. I felt so silly wearing a conspicuous bobby just two inches from my roots. It seemed to take months for those bangs to grow long enough to tuck behind my ear, and better yet, to pull into a pony tail. I pretty much vowed to never cut them again for that process alone. So you see why it really did take six months of consideration before the cutting took place. Yes, I did go through with it, and I really like them. They are still longish, and swept to one side, but bangs they are!! Welcome back 1989.