I Wear Bangs Because My Forehead Grew A Face And It’s Prettier Than My Real One

Photo by Matthew T Rader on Pexels.com

Society tells women that we need to “cover up” any part of our bodies that might not be traditionally desirable. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Let me explain. I’d never really been the insecure type. To clarify, I am extremely beautiful. All women are! But mostly me. I’d always seen style as the pinnacle of self-reflection. My polished black oxfords showed the world that I knew how to read. My second earlobe piercing screamed “fuck the establishment!” My fashion was my choice, and I was so naive.

On May 3, 2019 my forehead (which is beautiful) grew a face, and unfortunately, it was prettier than my real one. Yikes! It was then that I realized that maybe it was okay to change my appearance based on society’s standards. I mean, who’d want to gawk at me when they could gawk at that piece of face? So I did what I had to do. I got bangs.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my new second face! We are wired to the same brain, of course, so everything we say is in complete and perfect unison. Ever since Sandra (her name is Sandra) appeared, men have had to think twice about trying to project over me (us), so that’s pretty cool! My second face has also dramatically improved my sex life. God, can Sandra take a dick. Every time I bone, it is like having a threesome but with only two people. Every woman’s dream!

Alas, as I have mentioned, the perks of spontaneously developing a second face on your forehead had to end eventually. For me, it was the moment I realized that my new face was quite the looker! I mean, I’m used to heads turning when I walk down the street, but in the past they’d been looking at me, or my incredible rack. Now, they’re looking at her. It’s like, excuse me, my eyes are down here!!

Getting bangs was never a part of my 5-year plan. But sometimes life throws a curveball at you, like giving you a second face on your forehead who is prettier and better than you in every imaginable way. Can’t have that! I know that Sandra is watching me type this from behind my new and perfect bangs. Sandra, it’s okay. I love you. But in a much larger sense, I hate you. I hope that one day, you learn to understand.

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