From henceforth, you shall be known as Big Haircut.

When I was eight or nine, I decided my bangs were too long. I'm sure I mentioned to to my mom, and she either told me my bangs were fine or that she'd trim them or, you know, maybe I should just shut my face because did I think haircuts grew on trees? Because they don't.

Instead of waiting for help or for my next haircut, I figured I should cut my own bangs. How hard could it be, really? It's not like I was cutting the hair on the back of my head THAT WOULD BE CRAZY.

I decided to cut my bangs the next time I washed my hair, while my hair was still wet. I used scissors that I grabbed from the junk drawer. I stood on my tip-toes in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to steady my arm against the sink. I pulled my (wet, remember?) bangs tight against my forehead and cut them in one giant chop.

The problem was...well, ONE of the problems was that I cut them at the length I wanted them while they were wet AND stretched down as far as they could go. I'm sure you can see where this is going because you're all smarter than I am.

Once my bangs dried, they ended up shorter than I'd intended. A lot shorter. Like Rooney-Mara-as-Lisbeth-Salander short. But my super short bangs didn't dry straight or flat or anything, because my hair is wavy and dries wavy but not pretty wavy, more like frizzy wavy, so when my bangs dried, they pretty much stood up straight like they were trying to escape from my head. Sort of like this:

I've been terrified of bangs ever since. No fringe on top for me, no thank you.