CockaDoodle - D...Zzzzz

There's no denying it - I am no longer a spring chicken.

Just what IS a Spring Chicken?
A young person. The phrase is usually found in the negative, as 'She's no spring chicken.' The implication is that she has reached an age when she is no longer a chick.

Uh huh, that describes me to a T alright.

And whilst I'm on this 'poultry' (or 'paltry' as it is) subject, let me add that when I scoured my usual Stock Images website for a photo of a 'spring chicken' (oh u know how I like to embellish my blog entries with all sorts of pictures!), these are all I found:

'Chick' material? Not Saggs.

More like this, she is.

Just how did I reduce myself to this cold, featherless, lifeless bird carcass?

I O.D-ed - with endless streams of appointments, meetups, excursions, makan sessions etc. These past three weeks in Singapore, though enjoyable, was debilitating to my '32-going-on-85' body.

I'm certain every joule of energy's been sapped out of me coz when I landed at Heathrow, I was a vision... of swollen eyebags, dark circles, sallow skin and flyaway hair caused by static from the airline seat. Hubba hubba...Gag!

The whole household's still trying to recover from the unbelievable jet lag. My mum's nursing a headache, Dee slept from 11am~ 5am the next morning then upped and left for work, Danielle woke me up at 3am this morning and resisted sleep till 11am...$%#&(@*@$%!

The funny thing is, I don't even remember 'cheong-ing' that much? Sure, I had a few late nights having coffee or prata but such days were (literally) few and far between?

Oh well, guess I have to come to terms with my new-fowled status.

Cluckity cluck cluck, people.