2015 was quite the year for me. Each month seemed to bring new challenges and new opportunities. So this holiday season I decided to surprise my family by letting them know about a little lifestyle change I made over the past year. Needless to say it didn’t go to well. My mom got upset, my father won’t talk to me and my 80 year old Dutch conservative grandmother called me a “Queer.” And all I did was show them how I now wear my hair in a tiny little bun.
During Christmas dinner my Aunt Shelly leaned across the dinner table and whispered in my ear “Nice man bun, you filthy hipster.” While the grooming opinions of my Aunt Shelly mean very little to me as she looks like she takes make-up advice from Jackson Pollock, this term “man-bun” had started to irk me a little.
I put my hair in a bun and we call it a Man-Bun. I have a brown leather European carry-all and we call it a Man-Purse, or a Murse. My roommate is a boy and also a nurse and we also call him a Murse. Now when scoff and say to me “Nice Murse” I don’t know if you’re sarcastically complimenting me on my beautiful bag or if you’re sarcastically complimenting me on my beautiful roommate.
All I’m saying is we don’t call pants “Gal-Trousers,” we don’t use the term “Lady-Voting,” and we don’t refer to a dildo as a “She-Penis.”
I guess the point I want to make here goes out to all the haters. For all of you that want to stop the knot or ban the bun I just have one thing I want you to remember as we move into 2016, my body, my choice.
words: Ryan Bangma