Tuesday, July 10, 2007

people can make the most absurd impulse purchases

A nude spandex Zara dress with giant thumb-sized gold sequins plastered all over it (it’s perfectly explainable: it’s RM99 for what was RM399 before!!)

Then there’s the few Korean-mari pasar malam dresses that I picked up and now have nowhere to go with them. There’s a special creamy, dreamy, flowery bubble dress that was 2 sizes too small. Why oh why did I think I’d one day be thin enough for it??

Or that Stephen Fratwell CD that Sophiekins felt was a must buy when really… it was her flatmate’s idea of a good album. His taste in music is umm… complex.

1kg of garlic.

Or it could be a chemical peel. Especially on a Sunday after you’ve run out of medical leaves.

Or horrors of horrors: BANGS. Bad BANGS. Funky fringe. Pathetic pony. A terrible excuse for a hairstyle change, I have no idea why I just decided to plop my untoned ass on the stupid Brown Salon in Ciwalk (and the moron’s name is Iwan: DO NOT GO TO HIM. HE WILL GIVE YOU THE HAIRCUT FROM HELL) and tell him to snip the strands right there at the front. Maybe it’s the quarter-life crisis or something that I feel the need to perform something drastic in my life so that I’ll feel alive(??), wait no, so that things would be a little different. Not so rut-ty and more BIG FUN. I made a lot of mistakes. And so have other people. But BANGS?? Seriously. BANGS *rolls my eyes* and it’s hideous. I cannot look anymore Cina than I already do. I cannot have a rounder face than I already do. I cannot look anymore younger than I already do. It resembles nothing like Yuri Ebihara’s. Instead it looks like a modified mullet on a good day and a coconut palm sprouting from my scalp on a bad one. Neither of which works in my favour. He did not estimate the length well. In fact, I had to single-handedly guide him throughout the process. AND I had to blow-dry my own hair so that it was decent enough to leave the salon with. Oh well thank goodness I have 4 months to grow it out before my Super-Shelbulous Graduation PLUS Sumpah Dokter (Doctor’s Oath Ceremony). Maybe by then, it would be presentable… like Rihanna’s or Nelly Furtado’s (in Say It Right). I really ought to control myself. Really really. Ought to.

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