IF MY BANGS COULD TALK

Confessions from My Hair's Therapy Session

Therapist: *Takes a bite of her breakfast sandwich.* 

Hello, Bangs. How was your day?

Bangs: *Wonders if it’s normal for therapists to eat during sessions.*

Well, I woke up absolutely frazzled. Some parts of me were plastered down on this girl’s forehead, while others stuck straight up, literally defying gravity.

The head I’m attached to proceeded to bumble out of bed, and I was blinded by a light *song by Manfred Mann's Earth Band starts playing internally* and I nearly died. Then I looked in the mirror and a mullet-looking haircut (not the trendy kind) nearly killed me.

Therapist: *In-between bites.* 

It sounds like your morning started out pretty stressful. How did that affect the rest of your day?

Bangs: Oh, just wait—I’m not even done with the morning routine.

Therapist: *Blinks.*

Bangs: After nearly dying from the light and mirror, I got PINNED DOWN by a cloth-like rubber band while she washed her face. Relaxing for her, but obviously not for me.

Therapist: *Finishes off sandwich with a small crumb in the corner of her mouth.*

Yes, of course, that would not be enjoyable for anyone. How often does this happen?

Bangs: *Feels beyond glad that they’re finally done eating. Now if only the smell would go away.* 

I only had to endure that rubber band once today - sometimes it’s twice if she doesn’t shower, which is disgusting.

ALSO, why do humans even wear these bands and sometimes for hours at a time? I see them mainly when they exercise. I don't get it because it’s incredibly uncomfortable.

Therapist: Have you tried Googling grounding techniques to help when you’re in these stressful situations?

Bangs: *GOOGLING!?*

Uhhh…no. I’m here for you to give me some grounding techniques because I just panic until the rubber band finally gets peeled off, and I can stretch and breathe again. IT’S ONLY FOR A SECOND, THOUGH. I don’t know why I’m still surprised by this, but after the rubber band…comes the water.

Therapist: *Wipes her greasy hands on a nearby napkin.*

The water?

Bangs: YES, THE WATER! She cups it in her hands and throws it at me while I’m dangling from her head over the sink. If it couldn’t get any worse, a massive brush scraps through me and then there’s more water to flatten me down. I think she hopes that I’ll air-dry a certain way and look my best??

Therapist: If this happens every day, why do you think you’re still surprised by this?

Bangs: Well, you see, this trick usually works, and I tend to look incredible, which elicits a satisfied and confident look in the mirror from her.

This makes me feel very accomplished, obviously. But today I wasn’t feeling it and decided to have some fun and let one piece right in the front dangle completely out of place—a bad hair day for her, a fun day for me!

Therapist: Have you ever considered why you need to sabotage her in order to feel good about yourself?

Bangs: *Rolls non-existent eyes.*

Because it’s funny!! She really thought she could control me, but NO. I’m having none of it. Mornings are hard enough without being told to cooperate.

Therapist: I understand the feeling of not wanting to be controlled.

Bangs: It’s not about control, it’s about having a good laugh!

Therapist: *Jots down a note.*

How was the rest of your day?

Bangs: *Wonders if there’s grease marks all over her notebook.*

My favorite part of the day? Judging other people’s haircuts. You never know when someone will get a drastic makeover. Otherwise, it’s just survival mode the second she locks the door. From her rushing down the stairs to practically sprinting from her car to the office door, I start my workday with windburn and being split in two before the key card is even scanned to get inside.

THEN she ruffles me with her fingernails multiple times throughout the day to try and get me to look the way she wants, but I’m nothing if not unpredictable… turns out, so is she.

Therapist: How is she unpredictable?

Bangs: After work, I thought I’d get to lay down and recover from the chaos of today, but she exercised instead. I MEAN WHO DOES THAT?! Maybe she should be the one sitting in this chair.

Therapist: That does sound pretty vigorous for you. Are you okay with that kind of intensity?

Bangs: I guess I do have a love-hate relationship with exercises.

Therapist: In what ways?

Bangs: Well, on one hand, I see way too many of those awful rubber bands for me to even stand it, but on the other hand, I really get to live my best life and do whatever I want there!

Therapist: What do you do there?

Bangs: My goal is to make it so impossible for her to keep me in place that she doesn’t even care about fixing me anymore. I know this sounds terrible, but come on. If she’s going to make me exert energy after an already exhausting day, I’m going to make sure I have some fun.

So, I bounce this way and that, poof up here and there, split apart and come back together until I hang right over her eyes—it’s absolute chaos—and I’m obsessed.

Therapist: Ok, maybe you should come in twice a week for a little while. Is there anything you enjoy about your evening routine?

Bangs: *Dreads the idea of enduring that breakfast sandwich smell twice a week.*

The evenings are my favorite because I finally get to have a steamy shower to rest my sore muscles and relax on my favorite pillow. This is when I really do love my life. UNTIL I WAKE UP AND AM DISHEVELED ALL OVER AGAIN!

Therapist: Thank you for being honest. We have a lot to work through at our next session. Until then, what are you going to do to care for yourself?

Bangs: Uh…I guess I’ll Google some grounding techniques.