This is my declaration.

Remember I posted once about having the study table opposite the dressing table and how I have this tendency of staring at myself in the dressing table mirror?


Yeah, that happened again today.
I should seriously programme my insular cortex to be horrifyingly disgusted at my vanity.

While before this I talked about how big my teeth were to the point they resembled horse's teeth, today I will talk about my hair.

My hair is long. The last time I had long hair was when I was in Form 5. After that, I cut it, then grew it out, then cut it again, grew it out again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I haven't gotten a haircut since the disastrous haircut in May last year.

Now my hair is long, it's reached almost the mid-section of my back.

I want to get a haircut, but my father says to let it grow a little longer. So, I have to wait.
-.-

Oi, do you know how hard it is to keep long hair?
I look like a freaking langsuir!
(aiyah, I can't pass off as a langsuir, langsuir's very pale, I'm horribly tanned!)

He says to wait until it reaches the mid-section of the back and then cut it up to chin-length.
-.-""""""""""""""""""""""""


Wait.

Chin-length?
That would mean that if I cut my hair that short, it would look like this, right?

Hmm...given the fact that I really like his hair and the way it bounces when he plays the drums, I think I might just like the idea. Therefore, I shall be patient and wait. Patience is a virtue, anyway.

Okay, this is the end of my highly narcissistic post about my hair. I could've done something more useful instead of doing this...like sleeping. I've been sleeping at 4AM of late, thanks to football and F1, and waking up 4 hours later.


Have I told you how much I hate Tuesdays?