This post first appeared on moNSTerblog.

Lets call her Princess. I’ve known Princess for a very long time. Our history dates back to pre-Asian Economic Crisis. Back then, we both disliked boys, had under-developed chests, used the same multi-coloured Swan brand school bags and enjoyed abnormally long late night telephone calls. In fact, Princess wasn’t even a princess then. She was my best friend and we swore to live together in a luxurious penthouse once we become successful career women.

Suddenly, in the midst of surviving my first haircut disaster, my best friend’s chest started to develop, her naturally silky straight hair began to capture admirers while her skin stayed as spotless as the first day I met her. Im