Decisions, Decisions

I'm a terrible decision maker.

I can handle the major decisions just fine, but I’m utterly paralyzed by simple ones, such as which salad dressing to buy. I’ll narrow it down to about two, and then end up buying them both. And that’s how we ended up with NINE, COUNT 'EM, NINE SEPARATE DRESSINGS in out fridge. (That, and the fact that I apparently have salad dressing amnesia; I always forget that we have it in the house already. I do the same thing with shampoo.)

I’ve also been known to buy two pairs of cute shoes in different colors, and I purchased an insanely expensive stroller because, among other reasons, I could customize it and pick my own colors, thus sparing me from (gulp) making a decision. And I shudder to think about how our possible bathroom remodeling would go. (We’re currently pondering whether to do it...someone talk me out of it.) We’ll probably need to build a whole other bathroom just to try out all my alternate choices. THE PRESSURE! IT KILLS ME!

(Wow! Don’t I sound like such a sane individual?)

All of this to say that I have a decision to make. And it’s incredibly important, by which I mean “not at all important to anyone but me.”

People, I need a haircut.

A few months back, I heeded your collective advice and got bangs. And I LOVED them. We were so good together. Once we were past that awkward “getting to know you” phase, and really understood each other, things were peachy. But they’re all grown out now, and it’s like I don’t even know them anymore.

“Cmon you guys!” I’ll say. “I know you’ve been here a few months, and you can’t hang straight down anymore. It’s not who you are right now, and I get that; I do. But why don’t you try sweeping prettily across my forehead? Just for kicks! It’ll be fun! Like the old days!”

But they just ignore me like sullen teenagers, and try to blend in with the rest of my hair, while I try desperately to do something, anything, to make the awkward half grown out bangs look normal.

It’s not going well.

They’re at a very awkward length right now, and I’m not loving it. My feelings on the subject can best be expressed through song; specifically, my homage to Britney Spears’ seminal work, “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman,” entitled “Ain’t Bangs No Mo, But Not ‘Real’ Hair Yet.” Only I haven’t written anything beyond the title, so you’ll just have to go with that for now. But you get the idea, yes?

And so, I need a haircut. The question is what type to get. Do I get cute bangs again? Or roll the dice and deal with the frustration of what essentially amounts to two fugly curtain-like locks hanging on either side of my face for the next few months?

Here was my hair before the bangs…

And here’s a recent picture with bangs (already in the sideswept phase, but use your imagination):

So, what to do? Get bangs again, or grow them out?

I NEED YOUR ADVICE.