We are women. We have bangs.

Today in my teenage angst, people are forever saying "it's the little things." And while I really hate the cliche nature of that phrase, I would argue that the reason that I'm able to enjoy my life so much is that I spend a lot of time laughing at the little things. Anything can strike me as funny because anything can remind me of something else that happened that really made me laugh; anything can remind me of something someone said that was so ridiculous I choked on my spit; anything can remind me that my life is not so overwhelming that I need to be sour; but rather exactly the opposite.

I don't think I've ever fangirl'd as hard as I have over Buffy. I've never become so attached to a show and simultaneously judged it the worst thing I had ever witnessed. Coming in at a close second (fangirl wise), is Michelle Obama.

Five years ago, if I had asked you who is the most powerful black woman in the world, what would have been your response? Oprah. Obviously. Today, I stand before you and admit that when it was announced that it would be Oprah interviewing Lance Armstrong re: all the drugs, I thought to myself, oh yeah, Oprah.

I forgot about Oprah.

But give me a break. There's a new girl in town. Michelle Obama has taken on her role as first lady like no other. She is so poised. She is so strong. She as every ounce of faith in her blessed, blessed Husband. And what is almost the most amazing (though not surprising) is that her kids (blessed, blessed kids) really seem to like her. Because obviously they love her, but liking your mom when you're 11 or 12 or 15, is sometimes kind of hard.

A couple weeks ago, I got bangs. They are perfect and exactly what I had imagined. I had wanted them for a long long time and while I had worked hard to get rid of my bangs, wanting to identify with the Jessas of the world with their long, flowing, come-what-may hair, I'm really kind of built for bangs. Knowing then, my deep admiration for Michelle Obama, you can imagine that my response to the news of her bangs was a ridiculous explosion of ecstasy and glee. I immediately reblogged whatever post I had seen about it, exclaiming, "She got bangs! I have bangs too!" And then spent twenty minutes taking selfies of my own bangs so I could write this blog post.

Because it's like this. I adore Michelle Obama. I think she's kind of the Princess Diana of my generation. She is so strong, she holds herself in the public eye so well, and . . . oh I already did this part. And while I'm no Michelle O, she inspires me to be better, and to be more. And amid these heartfelt and thorough aspirations, it's the little things like this that make me think, maybe that's not so far off.

And so I say, "Welcome, Michelle, to the world of bangs. It's a pleasure to have you here. Do you need a friend? Allow me to show you around."