A WEAVE, EXTENSIONS, OR ONE OF MY MOM'S WIGS FROM THE 1970'S

I have been growing out my bangs, along with my hair, for the past 5 years. When stated like that, it appears to be almost a part-time job.  But that would denote I reached my goal. I have not.  There is a bit of false hope I hold, that mysteriously, like spontaneous combustion, my bangs WILL eventually grow out to the length of the rest of my hair. That destination never comes though.

If I had good hair genes it would be down to my ass by now. Both parental sides combined in marriage through my parents to give me a double dose of  non-Kardashian hair.  I can take biotin till the cows come home [cows don't come home on their own if they get out - you have to go get them] and nothing grows except the occasional menopausal chin hair.  In fact, I could invest in every product to thicken, elongate, puff up the volume of my hair and it would not do one lick of good. If those products actually work, they work on hair that isn't as genetically compromised as mine. Short of hair plugs for women, Rogaine or a wig, [none of which I have resorted to yet], there just isn't a whole hell of a lot I can do about it. 

Human nature plays out in hair just like in many others area of life.  I want what I do not have -  hair that actually grows, especially bangs.   There are other things that are lacking in my physicality as well, like boobs.  Those I don't want more of.  I am thoroughly content with my barely A's.  Some of you can't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would want better hair but not bigger boobs.

Pictures of me years ago, previous to diseases that have contributed to the demise of my hair, show more hair in volume and quantity.  This isn't about the change of styles over the years.  It's not about the infusion of gray in the darkening blond strands.  It's not about the natural effect of the aging process on my hair follicles.  Though I don't want to be young again, I would take my younger Nancy hair.

I know not all things get to their desired destination.  Some remain a constant work in process.  The means ultimately becomes the destination.  Mine, I fear, is just to keep "growing" out my bangs with the misguided and ridiculous belief that they will someday actually grow.   It is a form of denial - to believe they are still growing [action word].  They are still growing denotes they are in process.  Which, is a brilliant cover for the ultimate denial of the hair cards I hold. The greatest of which is my follicularly compromised  gene pool.

My friend says QVC sells bang extensions.  Christmas is just around the corner.   One can hope.