The Bob.

The reason why I appear overly ecstatic in the picture above (no sarcasm implied) is primarily because for the first time in my living existence I finally won the battle between client and hairstylist, me obviously being the client. Huzzah! Walking into the salon, I try to convince myself to be strong and simply say what I want instead of "let's just give it a trim". This time around I won't take no for an answer. "I'd like the Amelie cut" Repugnant glares from those who eavesdrop into my begging proclamation suddenly make me doubt my decision. NO. "The Amelie cut please". And then it happened. The Amelie cut is what I got. As if I have lived my life as a bald guy, reluctant and scared of the toupee, when in turn it becomes my dearest friend with a side order of respect. BOOMSHAKALAKA! Please don't close me. Though I guess there's a reason why hairstylists make all decisions and gives no real power to clients. The eternal battle between hairstylist and client. No really though, I love my hair. As if I no longer fall under the adolescent age group, I look (more so feel) like a wise old lady or a very young child. How does that even work? 

On a higher note: As more heat waves pass our way, an ongoing trend seems to stick with me; put on the bra and just go with it. No seriously. Just want to let you know, it may appear as if I'm having difficulty buttoning up my dress. Nope. Just choosing not to. At times like these I feel like the reincarnation of Tupac. Don't ask don't tell.

Bye friend.

Silk Dress

Sports Bra- National Sport

Jeans- Guess

Sandals- Chocolate Shoes