cutting in

When talking with A Lady this week and forcing her brain to help me select a date outfit, we decided that cutoffs were the way to go. They're not exactly my normal level of date-wear, but it was oppressively hot for a good long spell.

I took her advice and went with cutoffs and a swingy tank top, and then: oh. Yes, we twinsied it up this week, didn't we?

Cutoffs, thrift store old-man jeans; tank, Gap, sandals, Aldo.

My hair has inexplicably started to get wavy and, dare I say, slightly puffy in the past seven months. This baffles. I have had stick-straight hair all my life, not a hint of wave to it, and now suddenly I am confronted with these odd curly bits that want to poke out and create a sort of cotton-candy effect around my head. I am not for this at all. The solution thus far is to pull it half-assedly back into a bun and try to ignore it, and also to wear a trilby. And to keep doing that thing with my hands.