Signs it’s time for a trim, and I’m staring at my reflection in this smudged-up mirror in my Columbus apartment like, dude, what happened? My bangs—well, what used to be bangs—are now these sad little wisps that keep poking me in the eye every time I try to eat Chipotle. Like, I’m mid-bite into a sofritas bowl and bam, hair in the guac. Again. I swear the cashier at the shop downstairs gave me a pity nod yesterday, and I’m 99% sure she whispered “bless your heart” under her breath.
Why I Ignored the Signs It’s Time for a Trim (Spoiler: I’m Dumb)
Okay, real talk—I thought I was pulling off the “lived-in” look. You know, that whole “I woke up like this but make it artsy” vibe? Nah. What I was pulling off was a rat’s nest that smelled faintly of yesterday’s dry shampoo and regret. My ponytail? More like a sad little nub that required three hair ties and a prayer. I kept telling myself, “It’s fine, it’s texture,” but texture doesn’t snag on your seatbelt every time you get in the car. Texture doesn’t make your Uber driver ask if you’re “okay back there” when a chunk of hair gets caught in the window.
- The fork incident: Tried to twirl spaghetti and ended up with noodles and hair in the tines. Had to cut the pasta off with kitchen scissors.
- The static cling saga: My hair started sticking to my phone screen. Like, full-on Velcro. I looked like a malfunctioning Tesla coil.
- The “is that a spider?” moment: Woke up to something tickling my neck. It was my own split end. I yelped so loud my neighbor texted “u good?”
What Happens If You Skip the Signs It’s Time for a Trim (My Personal Horror Movie)
Anyway, the breakage started slow. Just a few flyaways that looked kinda ~ethereal~ in Golden Hour light. Then one day I’m brushing my teeth and crunch—a whole section of hair just… gave up. Snapped off like a stale pretzel. I found it later stuck to my hoodie like a tragic little flag of surrender. My ends? Split so bad they looked like they were auditioning for a Tim Burton movie. I tried trimming them myself with nail clippers at 2 a.m. after three White Claws. Do not recommend. I now have a chunk that’s two inches shorter and sticks out like a middle finger to symmetry.
How I Finally Admitted the Signs It’s Time for a Trim (And Didn’t Die)
I walked into Great Clips on a Tuesday because my regular girl ghosted me (rude) and told the stylist, “Just… fix it. Surprise me.” She didn’t even flinch. Just started snipping while I doom-scrolled TikTok and stress-ate complimentary mints. Thirty minutes later? I had layers. Actual shape. I could flip my hair without it getting stuck in my hoop earring. I almost cried. The stylist handed me a mirror and I whispered, “Who dis?” like a basic bitch in a rom-com.
My Dumb Little Tips for Spotting Signs It’s Time for a Trim (From a Recovering Hair Hoarder)
- If your ponytail looks like a used pipe cleaner — book it.
- If your hair tie snaps from overuse — that’s not a sign, that’s a cry for help.
- If you find yesterday’s eyeliner in your ends — girl, wash and cut.
- If your mom texts “???” with a photo of your hair from 2019 — she’s not wrong.
Yeah, So… Signs It’s Time for a Trim? Don’t Be Me.
Look, I’m still not gonna book appointments like a responsible adult. But I did set a reminder on my phone that says “HAIR PRISON” every six weeks. Baby steps. If you’re out there ignoring the signs it’s time for a trim because “it’s fine” or “I’m growing it out” or “I’m too broke”—I get it. I’ve been there, living in a nest of my own despair. But trust me, the $25 and 20 minutes will save you from the existential crisis of finding your hair in your ramen.
Go. Book it. Text me a selfie after. I’ll be the one in the corner with the uneven self-trim, cheering you on.
(P.S. If anyone asks, the burrito hair was “performance art.”)
Here’s a study on hair damage from the Journal of Cosmetic Dermatology if you wanna get nerdy about it. And this barber in Brooklyn swears by trims every 4-6 weeks—his Insta is wild.
