Inside Out

And with the cologne burning my sensitive armpits, I frantically searched for my polo-tee and wore it before styling my hair. A little bit of clay on my fingertips, a couple of brushes through my hair, a few twists and adjustments and I was set to go. I made a mental checklist as I put on my shoes:

Wallet? Check.

Mobile? Check.

iPod? Check.

A quick glance at the time on my mobile told me one thing - I'm running late for my 7pm appoinment at bugis; it was already 6.45pm! With that in mind, I quickened my steps, widened my strides and made my way down to the MRT.

The soft evening breeze caressed my skin softly before coming in sudden gusts. Annoyed at the fact that my hair could go totally out of shape, I felt around my head in a futile attempt to see if everything was in place. Seems to be, but I wouldn't be sure until I get to see it in a mirror. Time, however, forbade me from doing just that. I had no choice but to settle for the dark reflection of myself in the glass panes at the MRT platform.

Upon my arrival at the platform, I peered into the glass panes. My hair was alright and I thought to myself as I turned away with a narcissistic smirk, "Dang, don't I look dashing? Great polo-tee, great jeans and marvellous armpits emitting the frangant scent of Clinque Happy; how can I ever ask for more?". I couldn't resist taking another peek at my reflection to stroke my ego and when I did, I spotted an oddity in the reflection: my top had a white strip that was never there before. Peeling my eyes from the glass panes, I looked down at my top and found, to my horror, that I wore it INSIDE OUT!

Stop laughing at me.