Coloured Hair, Ripped Jeans, and Creepy Perverts.

I love my Nana.


last summer, i had my hair streaked blue. I would have liked all blue hair but i didn't have the guts. but now i'm SO glad i didn't. Because in order to do that, the woman had to bleach my hair cuz it wouldn't show on dark hair.
What i didn't know, was that the blue would eventually fade.
it started to become green,and i was okay with that, but then it started to fade even more and now its yellow- like hay. it's horrible, and it makes my hair look really dry too.

But now my hair's grown a bit so it's mostly only at the ends.
i just pretend like it's not there, until someone points it out to me. Yes, i KNOW my hair is blonde, and i KNOW it looks bad, thank you for telling me.
one of my friends keeps telling me to dye it back to brown, but if i'm going to dye it again, its not going to be a boring colour like brown, i'm gonna dye it light blue, or green, or purple.


Another one of my friends has also taken to calling me Blondie. -.-


For some reason, my nana didn't notice my blondeness until a couple of days ago. Maybe he forgot about the blue hair?


I was just sitting next to him and he suddenly exclaims


"what happened? your hair is white! buddhi ho gayi ho!"
"yes,nana, don't you remember? its been this way for a year almost!"
"nahin nahin, yeh kaisay hua? "


He was so surprised at my hair, he went on about it for an hour approximately. it was quite funny.
funnier than it sounds written here.


I want to dye the tips of my hair light blue now. (yes, i know i just don't learn, but this way i can chop it off if it starts to fade)



my jeans are all really old, and starting to rip at the knees. I DON"T DO IT ON PURPOSE.

I really need to go to Zainab Market to buy some new jeans.


so today i wore one of my many old, ripped pairs of jeans and went to nana nani's house.
as soon as i sat, nana noticed the jeans.


"I don't know why your generation doesn't care about looking proper. you know I was watching a drama, and the hero was wearing phatti purani jeans. Aur main tou sirf soch raha tha kay why is the hero dressed like a beggar on the street? In my zamana, everybody wore shirt-and-trousers. there was no such thing as jeans, even. I have never worn a single pair of jeans in my life. Aaj kal tou I see these boys on motorcycles wearing phatti hui jeans and t-shirts with writing on the front and on the back!
main tou kehta hoon kay acha zamana tou gaya"


he made me promise never to wear those jeans again.


i couldn't tell him that people actually buy ripped jeans on purpose. i just couldn't.

I love my nana.
<3


Something else happened recently.

i was reading someone's blog, and my khala asked me what i was doing. I told her i was reading someone's blog.
she asked me if i knew this person, and i said no.
then she asked if i spoke to her. I said i left comments sometimes.
she got really freaked out.
she said that this blogger was probably an old man, and that many people fell into this trap, and i shouldn't ever comment even though i didn't use my own name, because there is now advanced technology that could help people find me through the computer and that it was gravely dangerous.
i tried to tell her no one would make up a whole life, and that there's no way a 59 year old man could sound like a 17 year old girl.
She didn't listen, and insisted that this blogger was not a girl but someone trying to trap me, despite the blogger having a zillion followers,


I should keep my mouth shut sometimes.
I never got around to telling her that I write a blog, though. I feel slightly guilty now.


but because I usually always listen to my elders (whattay good little girl i am), i still ask you, if it is possible if you could in someway prove that you are not a creepy internet pervert, like him:

but you would tell me if you were, right?