Fashionably Late Pt. 1

Hi guys, I’m Abi. A girl who talks herself out of buying things she wants for months, only to complain that she has nothing to wear; a girl who’s so late to the fashion party that those around her think she’s a hipster – probably managing to bring back trends by finally buying all the things everyone had four years ago. Refusing for half a year to get her mile-long hair cut because it costs too much, and only spending money on Thursdays (pay day).

Well, I finally joined the century and spent my hard earned, dribs and drabs of cash in order to expose my knees, shoulders and neckline like the rest of the Kardashian wannabees.

It’s taken so long for me to spend any money on luxuries, that my blog has been open for months with two of the categories being entirely empty…

But it’s cool, cause now I look cool. Right?

First off, the hair. I think the kids call it a ‘lob’ which sounds extremely stupid to say aloud, both myself and the hairdresser now know, as I cowered into myself whilst saying three letters together of which I’m pretty sure mean absolutely nothing.

I’m not gonna lie, I love it. But the name still causes me some discomfort. Which is why I’m resorting to living in onesies; THE ULTIMATE COMFY GARNMENT.

I got my hair did at a salon in Bradford which offer an on-the-day service for all us impulsive cutters.

It cost less than my usual hairdressers and I got the full treatment; wash, cut, blow dry and style. I walked off with my new chop with my curls bouncing and nipped to the shops like a true Saturday city dweller.

The style isn’t particularly easy to maintain on a daily basis as my ‘wake up and put on clothes’ routine has been interrupted by hair straightening and brushing, whatever that is.

What I would say is, now my hairdryer became suicidal, I live in flick central. Which is even further from my idea of ‘easy to maintain’.

It’s too short to really put up without a million hairgrips, so my neck will have to be sweaty this Summer because my clips are scattered all over my boyfriend’s car. Marking territory and that.

But other than my constant complaining about looking like Kiera Knightley in Bend It Like Beckham, or some sort of one hit wonder pop star in the 90s, we cool.

It’s forcing me to experiment with my hair more, which I guess is good, and perhaps one day brushing my hair will be second nature. 💁🏼💇🏼

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