So Friday it rained. Correction, it decided to throw the entire contents of the sea on our heads. Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but you know what I mean. There was a serious amount of wet going on.
Now, I’m not normally a huge girlie girl, obsessed about looks and all that malarkey. For starters it must be exhausting trying to maintain flawless perfection 100% of the time. And secondly it’s just really not my style. But when it comes to rain, I’ve got a serious dilemma. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love that noisy, inconsiderate stuff the sky throws at us, more often than not in sunny ole’ England. There’s something so free about walking (or dancing if we’re going to be honest) in torrential downpour, knowing that you can go home and snuggle up in a duvet or something.. But that shitty, spitty rain that can’t decide if it’s here or there? Gah, I spit at it. (Okay, so I don’t physically spit at it cause that really wouldn’t be lady-like, and spitting makes me shudder, but in a metaphorical way..) And this, unfortunately, is all down to my hair..
The person who decided curls were ‘beautiful’, clearly did not have them. They suck. Fact.