Sweet 16

I sat myself and looked at myself at the huge mirror placed in front of me, "The usual, please," I said to her.

She gathers her tools and starts molesting my hair, "Trim?"

"Ummm, nah, let's go short," I suggested.

As she snips away bit by bit of me long hair, "Finally sick of it, huh?" she asks.

Having long hair may be cool and it does add extra points to my credibility as a designer, but sleeping with this 'neither here nor there' length is just downright...annoying. Having a chunk of hair poking me eye lids, while the others are trying to slither their way up me nose, giving me the illusion of mosquitoes or whatever creepy crawly hiking up Mt. Meng's Nose, "Yeah, I have to wash it everyday, religiously," I justify to her, "Sometimes twice because it's so bloody oily!"

She starts feeling my hair and picked up a handful of my hair, "Oily meh? Where got?"

Well, of course not today. It's been raining all day and I did nothing apart from sitting at the office and attend a 1-hour plus meeting at 3pm, "Today cold mah, head cannot sweat."

20-minutes later, she not only snipped off a load of hair, she knocked off 8 years away. Is this a good thing? And man, I have not seen my ears for a long, long time.

I feel like I could get arrested for driving.