First, there was the bob. Then came the long-bob, also known as the lob. Now, because I enjoy inventing words (especially those that sound very uncomfortable), say hello to the blonde-long-bob–in other words, the blob. This haircut has been a long time coming. I’ve been talking about it for months and months, but I was stuck in the place that I believe many women have been stuck in: the “I’ve been wanting long hair forever and growing it out for what feels like longer, and even though it’s almost impossible to do anything with it at this length and weight, I feel attached to it and therefore can’t cut it.” Yes? No? Only me? Well, that’s where I’ve been, hence the influx of recent outfit posts featuring a slicked back bun. I’ve known for a while that a snip and a chop were fast on their way.
To accompany a new, slightly mom-esque ‘do (in the best possible way, of course), I had to do a little shopping for what most people know as boyfriend jeans, but I strongly prefer to call mom jeans. They remind me fondly of the sorts of jeans my mom wore while I grew up, much more than something my boyfriend wears, so alas: mom jeans. Plus, my mom advised me on the phone as I tried these on at Old Navy that I should probably get them and they’re her favorite style of jean. Mom. Jeans.
And oh, my gosh, y’all. These jeans. I’m a veteran fan of Old Navy Rockstar jeans, a tighter fitting slim cut, washes of which appear in pretty much every post on this blog where I wear jeans. These are Old Navy’s distressed boyfriend jeans, and I am beyond impressed and in love, right in time for Valentine’s Day. I could probably sleep, work out, road trip, and run a full day of errands in these and be happy as a clam at the end of it all. The comfort level is unreal. I never thought this style would be a great look on me–it’s no secret I have a butt and thighs–but I was pleasantly surprised all the way around. All the way around…
If you’re on the fence about a big cut or a new jean style (or other major life decisions that don’t have to do with physical appearances–those, especially), take the risk. Make the move. Go for the change, as uncomfortable as it may seem. That’s my advice–yes, advice that I realize I took my sweet time to take myself. But–listen up, folks–I’m so happy I did! I’m so happy I chopped off five inches and bought the jeans that I once would have labelled myself as “frumpy” while wearing and made every other potentially risky decision I’ve made in life. I guess what I’m saying is: do what I say, not what I do. Stop waiting and do that big, scary thing.