My 10-Minute Self-Care Ritual: Why Trimming My Own Bangs Became My Meditation

*Collaborative Post

It was 2 PM on a Tuesday. My toddler had somehow gotten hold of a permanent marker and decorated our cream sofa, I hadn’t showered in three days, and I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror while wiping someone else’s snot off my shirt. Wild, uneven fringe hanging in my eyes. Dark circles underneath. A person I barely recognized.

I didn’t just feel out of control of my hair. I felt out of control of everything.

That night, after both kids finally fell asleep, I found myself watching a YouTube tutorial on trimming bangs. Not because I was particularly interested in DIY beauty. But because I was desperate for something (anything) I could control. Something small. Something that was just mine.

The Discovery That Changed Everything

I’ll be honest. The first time I trimmed my own fringe, it came out slightly wonky. One side was maybe a quarter inch shorter then the other. But you know what? I didn’t care.

Because standing there in my tiny bathroom, door locked, focusing entirely on the precise angle of the scissors… for those ten minutes, I wasn’t a milk machine or a snack dispenser or a conflict mediator. I was just me. Doing something intentional for myself.

That lopsided fringe felt like reclaiming a piece of my identity.

Why It Actually Works as Self-Care

Here’s what I’ve learned about these small rituals. Mental health experts call them “pause rituals” (intentional moments built into your day that create psychological boundaries). Even 10-minute rituals can dramatically impact our resilience as parents. The key isn’t the length of time. Its the intention behind it.

My fringe-trimming ritual works because:

It’s actually achievable. Unlike a gym membership I’ll never use or a weekly massage I can’t afford, this takes ten minutes. No childcare required. No appointments. No guilt about spending money or leaving the house. I can do it during naptime or after bedtime, whenever I need that mental reset.

It creates a boundary. The bathroom becomes my space. Locking that door is permission to focus on myself. And here’s the thing about trimming hair… you can’t multitask. You have to be present. Your hands are busy, your eyes are focused, and for once your brain isn’t spinning through the mental load of what needs doing next.

The results are immediate. Most of parenting feels like an endless cycle of tasks that are never really finished. But this? Clear before and after. Tangible proof that I’ve done something for myself. That I still exist as an individual.

It’s genuinely meditative. The repetitive motion of sectioning hair, the focus required for precision cuts, the connection between breath and movement.

Some mornings I don’t even trim anything. I just stand there, comb in one hand, scissors in the other, and it centers me. It’s my brain’s signal: This moment is yours.

The Tool That Makes All the Difference

But here’s what I learned the hard way.

My first attempts were with kitchen scissors. Actual kitchen scissors I’d been using to open Amazon packages. And it was… frustrating. They pulled my hair instead of cutting it cleanly. Each snip felt jerky and unpredictable. I’d finish with more stress than I started with, worried I’d created a disaster that would take months to grow out.

It felt like trying to meditate in a room with flickering lights. The tool itself was breaking the calm.

Everything changed when I finally invested in proper hair scissors. Not the $15 drugstore kind. Actual professional hair cutting shears from Japan Scissors.

The difference was immediate and honestly kind of shocking.

The weight in my hand felt substantial, balanced. The blades were sharp enough that they glided through hair without any resistance or tugging. I could work slowly, methodically, without frantically trying to fix mistakes. The clean cuts meant my hair looked healthier too (no crushed ends or split shafts like dull scissors create).

But more than the technical benefits, having a quality tool gave me permission to take this seriously. It wasn’t frivolous. It was a commitment to showing up for myself. To treating my ten minutes of autonomy as something worth investing in.

How to Start Your Own Ritual

If this resonates with you, start small. You don’t need to commit to anything elaborate.

Pick your moment. Find a time when the house is quietest or when you most need a reset. Sunday mornings work for me. Wednesday evenings when the week feels too heavy. Consistency matters more then perfection.

Set the scene if it helps. Sometimes I light a candle. Sometimes I just enjoy the silence. Make the bathroom feel like your space, even briefly.

Start with something simple. You don’t need a dramatic restyle. Trimming split ends, tidying your fringe, or just running scissors through dry ends to “dust” them. If you’re new to trimming your own bangs this step-by-step guide from Marie Claire breaks down the technique beautifully. But remember, this ritual isn’t about perfection. It’s about the process of showing up for yourself.

Let go of perfect results. Some days my fringe is better than others. That’s not the point. The ritual is the point. The locked door. The focused attention. The ten minutes of remembering I’m still here.

The Bigger Picture

Motherhood can feel like endless giving. We pour from our cups until they’re empty, then feel guilty for having nothing left.

But self-care doesn’t have to be expensive retreats or hours we don’t have. Sometimes it’s ten minutes in a locked bathroom with good scissors, reminding ourselves that we’re still individuals. Still capable. Still here.

My fringe might not always be perfect. But every time I trim it, I’m telling myself: You’re worth this small moment of care.

And honestly? That’s been more transformative than any salon visit ever was.

*This is a collaborative post. For further information please refer to my disclosure page.