28 going on 68.

It’s tough being a girl sometimes. Ok, I think “girl” no longer applies to me, seeing that I’m turning 28 soon. Homaigawd! 28! Where did all those years go to?!?! It feels like I just turned 21 a little while back.

Now that I’ve horrified the bejeezus out of myself, let me grumble a little. Since I’m 28 going on 68, I have every right to whine like an old lady. Don’t worry, no PMS issues are going to be brought up.

The time it takes to get ready.
Friends, especially of the oblivious male kind are appalled that I need more than an hour to make myself presentable enough to be paraded on the streets. Hello, everything needs time, from washing my long hair to slapping on minimal makeup. Do you think I have a magic wand to abracadabra myself everyday?

What to wear.
Believe me. Even a casual outfit takes a lot of thought. Especially when we go on dates- the gabazillion questions we ask ourselves. “Is this suitable enough without coming across as trying too hard?”, “does this outfit spell SLUT or make me look like a hooker?”, “what shoes do I wear with this get up?!”.

I actually enjoy dressing up a lot, but men, do keep in mind that everything you say affects us mentally. Erm that is if the girl is interested in you in the first place. If she’s not, you can be sure she will not give a rat’s arse even if you tell her she looks like your grandmother’s curtains from the last century.

The things we can’t say or do.
Sure sure, you men like us to be “ourselves”, but think about it. Would you date a girl again if she laughs like a pack of hyenas or picks her nose in public?

Ok I take that back. If she picks her nose in public, run away like the wind and exile her to “do not have any contact anymore” territory.

I’m all for being “ourselves” but there are just some things we have to be extra mindful of. Like accidentally bruising your ego. And not eating difficult-to-eat food like huge ass burgers or anything of non bite sized proportions. After all, you don’t really want to be seen out with Conan The Barbarian right?

And the more I type, the more I’m having self-realisation. I’m guilty of laughing like a hyena (thank god not an entire pack), and owning clothes which air my chest quite a bit.

Because X once told me “if you were my mother’s daughter, she would burn all your clothes”, nowadays when I’m out with him, I try not to wear anything that shows more than a hint of cleavage.

That’s it. I’m going to shop for turtle necks and scarves from now on. Maybe I should also giggle demurely with my hand covering my mouth instead of bursting out into hearty laughter.

See. How tough it is being female sometimes? You all better reflect and appreciate all that we do just to try to leave a positive impression.

Excuse me while I go burn all my old clothes, practise my perfect posture by balancing a fish bowl on my head and most of all, giggle like a lady. *tee hee*

xoxoxoxo.

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