For the past 8 years or so, I've been judging my level of attractiveness by how I look when I wake up in the morning. I believe standing in front of a mirror, puffy eyed, sans mascara, looking kind of grumpy, is a very honest approach to judging ones own fuckability. That is until I moved to Durban. Every single morning since I arrived here, due to all the humidity and static electicity in the air that comes before a good old Durban thunder storm, I’ve had to face Tina Turner in the mirror. My hair hates this place. And it hates me. Which means I have gone from what I believed to be about a 61/2 to a very definite 2 on the Morning Mirror Fuckability Meter. Awesome. This also means that instead of the old ‘brush and go’ routine, I have now become one of those irritating chicks that spends 45 minutes on her hair in the morning. Double awesome. Now all I need to do is get myself one of those dumbass handbag dogs, a pink power suit, some false nails and I’ll be well on my way to being Paris Hilton’s new BF. Like, totally!
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