Today was a Really Bad Day. Despite a primary schoolmate's (male) friendly and flattering sms that I'm still the chioest, and a senior whom I most admire and respect confirming a CNY dinner with me and another, by 2pm, I felt fat and ugly and I was damn sure I look it. I walked pass a mirror and I went yeek, people like that should just die, die, die!!! Not continue walking around disgracefully and be an eyesore. Attractive and compelling, my ass.

I suspect it all began with a most innocuous and innocent conversation in the morning. One that went:

I got married last year.
Oh, is that why you cut your fringe, for the wedding pictures?
No, no. I cut it to look younger actually. Not to be Auntie-ish.
Do you blow your fringe then? I can't cut short fringe 'coz it won't come down flat on my forehead.
Go and rebond your hair, then cut the fringe. It will stay in place then.

Like I said, the remarks were totally neutral but any commentary involving suggestions or advice, however made kindly, in jest or casually regarding my hair simply irks me to no end. I don't see why I must defend my natural-ness so hard when it's supposed to be Nature and hence, Normal. I just dun like fiddling with my hair texture and colour.

I don't start off a conversation looking at your shiny, bouncy dyed hair and go hey, why dun you perm it and make it jet-black so I don't see why I am the victim of such remarks All The Time. It's really getting to me. I hate explaining; I hate defending; most of all, I hate how you make me feel there really is something wrong with my hair, with so many of you uttering similar things. Bug off, you dolls. Leave me and my hair alone.

Today, I'm insecure about my appearance because everywhere I turn, I can't hide from straight dyed chestnut brown, red-gold hair and because I'm particularly vulnerable today, I feel like shit. The accumulation of commentary on my hair, the outsider (intensified by visual attacks of hair in all shades but all straight on my corneas) has finally, insidiously wormed itself to my heart. I feel miserably ugly and that I don't belong.

It doesn't help matters that I constantly feel repressed in the office. I hate dressed in my blacks and whites and I feel sometimes it's more depressing than anything since I'm in mourning colours. Yes, I do have tops in other colours but they glare at me because the tops are usually sleeveless so I feel obliged to pile on a black cardigan. So there you go, depressing all over again.

I need more colours and more inspiration to pile up my hair in different ways. I can't let it down now 'coz I have just shifted to a new cubicle. I can no longer feel the cold draughts of air. And so, hot, hot, hot...I feel repressed too when i bun hair so I have taken to clipping hair in a messy bun with some tendrils falling out.

But today's bun is a neat bun, so neat, I feel Repressed. Depressing.

So I scream silently when I view myself in the mirror, window panes.

And to mark up the extent of my misery, a saleswoman looked at me as I stumbled past the range of mysterious facial products in NTUC and remarked perkily hey, wanna buy some anti-freckle cream, xiaomei? you have a lot of freckles.

What the hell is wrong with freckles now? I don't ask you to anti-mole your mole.

What a lousy day. Spent the night with Ruth and we just felt uglier in each other's company :)