Today TT and I went to have lunch at a nearby pizzeria. All in all it was nice, great even… except for one thing: the waiter repeatedly called me señora. WHAAAAT on earth is that supposed to mean?? Am I officially old now?
Somehow I’m so used to others thinking I’m younger than I actually am that I have deleted a few years of my real age, and facing the truth just freaks me out: living in denial? Absolutely!
Crisis número dos: my hair. (now this is the point where you can tell the writer is a 20-something-female). I have an appointment at the hairdresser’s for Monday but have no clue what to do with my hair. Why get an appointment in the first place? Well, it feels so nice when someone is pampering me.
Anyhow, the hair colours below are really tempting, so maybe dying it in a more summery shade could be a good idea?
#2 and #1