Intervention

STEP AWAY FROM THE SCISSORS!

That's right. Hello, me. It's you, from three weeks ago.

I knew I'd find you here. Just couldn't help yourself, could you? Thought not. I know me so well...

I'm here from your past, desperately attempting to stop you from what you're about to do. I know you think it's a good idea. That this will solve your problems That this is your only choice. Trust me, it's not. Because I'm you from three weeks ago. I did exactly what you're thinking about doing. And it was a disaster.

Please, please, please don't cut your bangs.

I know it's tough. You're in some weird hairstyle limbo right now. Flagrant strands are poking your eyeballs and tickling your temples. And, since most of them have split ends, their annoyance is doubly armed. Snipping them away seems like the only solution. In fact, it seems like a great idea. You just saw a "news clip" on E! about Taylor Swift and how awesome she looks with blunt cut bangs.

She does. You won't. Because you didn't three weeks ago. I'm serious. Look into my eyes ... which you can clearly see peeking below that bowl cut of mine.

You didn't three weeks ago, and you won't now. You are clearly a side-swept layered kind of girl. Asymmetry is your friend. Nothing about you is ever going to be blunt. Not your conflict-avoiding tendencies, not your last name, and especially not your bangs. They'll cling and clump all over that greasy forehead - let's be honest, fivehead - of ours and never look as sassy as Taylor's fringe does at the American Music Awards.

I know this sounds harsh. But I'm telling you this because I care about you. And I'm writing this after I just finished cutting my bangs harshly. And I'm angry about it. And I'm trying to save you for doing what you (me) have (has) already done. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get you to stop.

That's right: either you step away from the scissors, or I will spend the next three weeks (your past three weeks) making the worst mistakes you've ever made. I'll befriend every coworker you've ever hated on Facebook and make every status update you've ever posted about them public. I'll join The Twitter. I'll repeatedly turn off your alarm clock and make you late to work. I'll give you conjunctivitis. That's right. I'm going nuclear. And I can do it. Don't think I didn't tuck away your favorite eyeliner during your last pinkeye breakout as collateral, and don't think I won't sneak it back into your makeup case.

You can do it! Just hold on! After you get through this awkward stage, I promise you that you'll reach this wonderful place, where your bangs will blend and romantically drape over your ear or cooperatively tuck back into your ponytail. Just think of that nirvana! They'll be quiet. They'll be well behaved. Because they'll be longer, older, wiser. Consider your current bangs in the final stages of adolescence. Sure, they're uber annoying right now. But you need to do what all of the parenting books say. You need to stay strong. You need to be patient. You need to not give in and join in the fray. Eventually they'll come around, find a new place past your temple, move out and join the long hair community.

Please, in the name of all that is Dr. Drew Pinsky, remember three weeks ago. And. Put. The Scissors. Down.