Forget Waterboarding. The CIA Should Try A Headband

I don't mean to toot my own horn or anything, but it has to be said that I looked adorable today. I wore black square neck top with a girly-but-not-gradeschool bow on the side, red shoes, and a white plastic retro headband. Why is it that we women, over time, seem to forget the pain that a certain fashion item can inflict? I have an awesome pair of plum colored peep-toe heels that make me wince with every step. Yet, every three months or so, I think that I must've exaggerated the pain that I felt the last time I wore them and wear them once again. And my feet pay for it. That pain is real and I'm reminded of the intensity of it everytime the glorious Italian masterpiece touches the ground. Same story with this headband. My bangs were not working for me this morning. They were sticking straight up because of some cursed cowlicks that I wage war against everytime I do my hair. Today I waved the white flag in defeat and put on the headband. It couldn't be that bad, I told myself. Eight year old girls all over the world wear them on a daily basis. Are they tougher than me? No sir! I can do this! All in the name of fashion! By 10:00 am, I was cursing that stupid accessory. The only thing on my mind was how much pain that rediculous piece of plastic was inflicting on my poor cranium. Sometimes the pulsing pain kept beat with the song that was playing on the radio. Why didn't I take off the headband you ask? You can't recover gracefully after 2 hours of headband wearing when you have bangs as short as mine. It was pinching my brains out. It was pushing all intelligent thought out of my skull. It was pure torture! And I'll never wear one again! Well, at least not for another couple of months.