Every time I come to Singapore I remember why I used to be anorexic. Half the female population totter around the place on their bony legs and wave their twiggy arms around as they shop and ooh and aah over clothes, makeup, food, gossip and shoes. Everyone dresses immaculately. Their faces stay perfectly painted, their voices are quiet, their clothes basically look like they're on mannequins. Perfection. Perfection. The epitome of womanly beauty in the modern world.
There was only one girl today whom I could bring myself to appreciate. She was wearing black track pants, a white baggy T-shirt and converse shoes. There was my soulmate right there. it took me great control not to sprint across the vast expanse that is Bugis Junction and embrace her in my flabby arms, God bless her soul.
On a more serious note though, I was very pleased when I heard some people talking about church and christianity in the MRT.
On an even more serious note- PDA GALORE, i am GROSSED OUT beyond belief. Even on the escalator; for heaven's sake girl, give the poor boy a rest on his journey of mechanical ascention. They grope, they smooch, they drape themselves all over each other, PROTECT MY EYES DEAR LORD.
T.T. I wanna go hooome.
ps. I joke. There're sufficient delectibles to keep me attracted and satisfied in Singapore, despite my complaints.
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