If you've seen me in this tshirt two days in a row, I assure you I am not wearing yesterday's tshirt. I have four pieces of this very tshirt, each worse for wear than the next. I can tell them apart though, because the oldest has been worn so often that it has a hole in the boob area - not that that has deterred me from throwing it on at least once a week to work.  

What is it about this tshirt that an entire ode is dedicated solely to it? It is the perfect shade of grey, made of the softest cotton-polyester blend with the right thickness-thinness and ends right at the hip. The boyfriend fit is comfortable and it doesn't shrink or expand in the wash. 

The tshirt is $6.  

Unfortunately, the company that has been making these wonderful tshirts has refused to sign the Bangladeshi Safety Act recently, so I am in a bit of a turmoil. On one hand, I am only one person, but on the other hand, if everybody thinks this way, we'd all be fucked. Companies who have sign the Bangladeshi Safety Act can still carry out unethical labour practices in other parts of the world, still and still be able to sleep at night.

As for me, my hunt begins for the next best soft grey tshirt. I'm hoping I'll find one before the tiny hole in my tshirt becomes one that is far too indecent to carry on wearing. 



Whenever I hear the term 'soldier', Destiny's Child's Soldier comes to mind. It's probably one of my favourite songs by the girl group... That said, save for my brother's oversizes camo pants I tried on once, I've never owned a pair until I slipped my gams into this babies from Zara, and I was sold.

I couldn't decide between an M, which sat lower on my waist and a size L, which was slightly looser, and so I decided, just in case, I picked the bigger size. Unfortunately, they became even looser after a couple hours of wear... I'm going to throw them in the wash to shrink 'em, but I might get another one in a size smaller. Jeans or pants that fit well are so hard to come by - for me, at least. Worn with my favourite v-neck tee from Target and trusty Jeffrey Campbell heels.

On a different note, I love the length that my hair is at now, it's not super short to a point where my ponytail would look like a duck's ass, or too long where I'd be drowning in my own hair. It's easy to manage, and my boyfriend is pleased [I think], cos he prefers me with longer hair. I think it's cos he shaves his head all the time, so he needs me to make up for his lack of locks. Makes sense? I think so.

[ If you were wondering who cuts my hair...holla at Andrea for the best hair cut of your life. Again, and again. Trust me on this one.]


For years, I've just worn old clothes to work out. My rationale was - why bother wearing pretty clothes when you're going to be a hot mess sweating it out anyway. That is, until I started downward dogging [which I prefer saying than yoga. Heh heh] four months ago and I started scouring the web for yoga gear.

While you would sweat like a whore at church at hot yoga classes, it's not a high impact class so boobies don't need as much support as they would when you're running, or kickboxing, so I turned to LuluLemon for tops with built-in bras. I've raved about their line of sports bras before, and I will continue raving about the wicked products they have. Their Wunder Under tights, for example? Best thing EVER to travel in.

The shorts I'm wearing in the photo were a pair I got on sale from Nike, but Target does make awesome [and ridunkulously cheap] workout gear too.

What do you wear when you bust your booty?


The one-liner title I have for this post is from the lyrics of Maroon 5's Payphone. Seriously. All these love songs about missing people, people dying, love lost, love love love. I'm about to shoot myself in the head from it. Speaking of which, my spirits were lifted this after I Skyped with J this afternoon before I left for my meetings. I didn't have much to tell him, because while he's flown over several oceans and drove home from JFK, I've just been buried under covers crying my eyes out. But it felt incredible seeing his face, listening to him laughing, watching his expressions... just missing a few sensory experiences that include breathing in whiffs of his cologne, amongst other things...

I was inspired enough to pull myself out of my bed and throw together this outfit for a meeting:

And then, I played house with Zoie, who now has a penchant for making faces at the camera.

I lived through Day 3 without J. Let's see how long I have to go.

And just cos' Adam Levine is hot, here's the video of Payphone:


Feeling festive for Chinese New Year in a red-all-over outfit. I'm so glad Spring is springing up in stores. Out with the blacks!

I know I've been slacking on updating lately - between personal matters and my bummed toe, I haven't been inspired lately to write. It's incredible how one itty bitty toe can screw up your lifestyle - today marks three weeks since I've busted my toe, and it also means I've been living in flip flops for three weeks, and it's killing me. I also haven't been going to the gym or working out in general for almost a month since Christmas, which is why I feel so damn sluggish.

It's time to pull up my non-existent socks and stop feeling sorry for myself. Going on a strict diet tomorrow - if I can't run for six months, or swim until there's bone growth, I can sure eat clean.