beauty dies, the beast triumphs
2004-01-27

I�m glad I�m in Los Angeles. Except for a second glance, no one seems to be especially perturbed at the sight of a petite, brown skinned, bald young lady.

In the blas� words of my architecture professor,
�Oh, you got a haircut.�

I noticed that I�ve reverted to the old mannerisms of my tomboy days. I keep my hands in my pockets and I speak with a lowered voice. I don�t smile as much. I�ve even abandoned my very chic Jackie O shades for purple tinted Yoko Ono glasses.

Now what the hell is happening?

Mr. J seems to be taking it in stride. Very commendable, since I know I don�t look nearly as attractive without hair as I do with hair. No more PDA though. Yeah, I don�t blame him; no straight guy wants to be mistaken as � of a gay couple, neh?

Many have questioned why, and to most I gave a superficial answer.

Truthfully, though, I�m tired of trying to measure up and failing every single time.
Some think I�ve done considerably well at �girlifying� myself, but me being the very critical judge of myself see a very different truth. Yeah, that�s superficial, I�m fucking superficial, who gives a damn.

What the hell.
I�d rather be very good at ugly than mediocre at beauty.

Now I spend most of my time working out. I want muscles, goddammit.

According to Encik Kadir my arms are, in verbatim, �cibai�.