There are some things we need to talk about of a serious nature. Just some things we need to discuss that are pressing on my heart right now. Three things, actually, and they all have one common theme. Buns. They are all bun-related subjects.
Top Buns, Man Buns, and Hot Buns. After much prayer and thoughtfulness, I feel led to speak into these topics in what I can only assume will be my most earth-shattering and poignant post to date.
For the last couple of years, I’ve taken to pulling my hair in a top bun almost daily. In fact, it’s become so regular for me to do this that sometimes I can’t remember the last time I actually brushed my hair. I often sleep in the bun.
And now I have the mother of all ponytail headaches that won’t go away, with flyaways all around my face from where the hair has up and broken right off out of defeat. I pretty much look like Medusa with my hair down.
When I did the cover shoot for Fayette Woman Magazine (I’m sorry. I promise not to start my sentences with this very often. Maybe two more times.), we did four different looks, ending with me at my computer (not in my office, because HAVE YOU SEEN THAT HOT MESS?!) typing while eating a Nerds Rope, because REAL LIFE (I actually did return emails while shooting. Hey, if I’m at my laptop, I’m working…unless I’m on Facebook with you guys.). Anyway, they wanted me to look natural like my real self, which means Top Bun.
Her: For this shot, I want you to put your hair up like you’re a busy mom, so just fix it like you normally do.
Me: (assembling my normal top bun) Okay, this is how I wear it every day.
Photographer walking in the room: No. You look like Bamm-Bamm.
They made me a nice ponytail and every day when I do my hair I think BAMM-BAMM STYLE. Next time I buy a rotisserie chicken I need to save a femur. (Note: I’m not sure if chickens have femurs. But I’m not really comfortable scavenging a bone from something large enough to have a well-developed femur. Does Tofurky have a femur?)
I feel like Man Bun used to be an anomaly, and now I’m seeing it constantly. I got off the plane in Denver and saw three man buns before I left the airport, and it’s sweeping the nation gathering steam like a hairy tornado virus.
The first time I saw it, I guffawed. You know that laugh that’s like when you combine a grunt with that nose-puffy thing a horse does when it’s frustrated? That was my initial reaction when confronted with my first Man Bun. Now when I see one, I feel this odd combination of admiration and inexplicable need to chop it off with a scythe while screaming, “No! You don’t get to have this!”
I have to admit I almost like Man Bun at this point. Bless their hearts. Men have so few creative options with their appearance, and Man Bun has opened up a whole line of clip-on accessories.
Blond Man Bun:
Brunette Man Bun:
Does anyone else think this is the same guy in an argyle shirt who’s been photoshopped to have different hair? It’s nice to see the photoshoppers working on the men now, too. Next photoshoppy trend for men: thigh gap. BECAUSE IT’S ONLY FAIR.
When my friend Megan took me on a boat tour of San Francisco, a young guy who I dubbed “Man Bun” kept getting in the way of my photos. I began making up a story line about him in my head and finally gave up and just photographed him with the San Francisco scenery. Look, Man Bun found love:
He and Lady Man Bun Lover enjoyed the scenery with minimal pelvic thrusting. They could’ve just been cold. Love and buns.
Leggings make me nervous. I’m not sure if this is latent Child of the ’80s damage from wonky stirrup pants or if I have some kind of deep-ingrained fear of camels and their various extremities.
Whatever the reason, leggings make me very nervous. I love yoga pants, but for some reason, leggings make me feel like I forgot to put on pants and am walking outside pants-less.
However, I try to be brave, and one day my legs and butt were cold and so my defenses were down when I saw fleece-lined leggings. They looked like a form-fitting fuzzy blanket that you could walk around in, and I just needed my lower half to be warm and cozy.
So I bought them to wear with the longest shirts and thickest granny panties I could find. I looked at my butt in the mirror, and decided that while I didn’t have hot buns as in HAWT DANG, I did have hot buns as in a warm and cozy tush. A tush with a long-ass shirt covering it.
In addition to the feeling like I forgot my pants, I discovered one other dark side to the leggings phenomenon. Yes, the fleecy leggings keep my legs warm, but that’s in large part due to the extreme chafliness happening on account of Winter Legs.
Winter Legs are the gift we give ourselves when it’s cold and we no longer have to shave constantly. We need the extra warmth, so we let our razors take long breaks between use. This is a survival skill and works just fine when alternating between jeans and yoga pants.
But dude. When you try to slide fleece-lined leggings over woolly mammoth legs, the fleece gets caught, much like if you try to drive a rental car backwards over the spike strip.
So I’m thinking the leggings register neutral on the cozy scale. They add warmth, but in order to wear them without causing a friction buildup, you have to shave first. Only you can prevent forest fires.
Let’s see, so in conclusion…
pro: don’t have to brush hair ever
con: permanent headache and Medusa effect
pro: more options for bored males
con: everything else
pro: toasty comfy butt
con: Excessive Winter Shaving
While weighing the pros and cons, please enjoy these: