lamentable manisfestations

I spent Valentine's Day at an inter-media bowling tourney - and naturally, the team lost. My best score was 67 - and I ranked at 132 out of 137 players in terms of score. OK, at least I wasn't last. And I managed to score a strike once.

I play better badminton. Or so I'd like to think anyway.

There wasn't much to do by way of being a single on a day when some love-themed meal and a super sappy romance movie are compulsory. So I went and bought myself two pairs of thongs - which now I regret buying.

The first, a midnight blue see-through thong with silver glitter I realised upon reaching home that I'd grabbed the wrong size. It's a size bigger and it was hanging on the little thong hanger with a big '8' on it. Way to go. I'm so not going to return it. I'm going to donate it to my friend who happens to wear size tens.

The other was this quirky pink and silver thing with ruffles. It reminds me of when I was eight. When little girls' swimsuits had the little ruffle-bit pretending to be like a little bit of a skirt. Damn. I never knew thongs can make me look and feel juvenile.

I don't know if I ever want to wear it... like what if I had to get undressed and I was seen in that pink thing - that looked so cute at Topshop five hours ago? I'd be a laughing stock. Nobody'll think of my credibility as a journalist anymore! Oh goddammit.

And I regret my hair trim. It wasn't supposed to be that short. Now for some nagging reason, I think I look older - which isn't much consolation when I just recently turned a year older. Dammit. I'd have much rather stuck with my brittle ends if I'd known it'd turn out like this.