One More Year and I'm an Adult!

Once again, I'm really, really, sorry
Eh, screw it. You guys know I'm sorry, right? This seems to be some kind of ritual for me as of late, saying sorry.
Anyway, last Thursday, August 11, was my birthday! :)
It's weird that my birthday is during Ramadan. Usually, you never want your birthday to end, and I felt that way during my birthday, too, but, since I was fasting, I also couldn't wait for the sun to set and the day to be over so that I could EAT! (I was also looking forward to my Souplantation birthday dinner!) And you all know how I love eating.
The day before, I got a new haircut! :)

Before:

After:

I like the layers very much. :)
My sister couldn't stop touching my hair after coming back from the salon.

(BTW, my sister is NOT that short. I drew her shorter than I intended to draw her, and I aimed to draw her shorter than she is, anyway. She's almost as tall as me!)

We moved, too, late in June. There are three really nice Bangladeshi girls who live across the street from us. None of them are my age, though. They're eleven, ten and eight, respectively. The ten-year-old has a twin brother. They used to bike and play catch with us everyday, but then, they discovered that we had a lot of movies and access to Netflix. So they started watching movies instead of actively playing, which kind of made their mom mad. I think she thinks my sister and I are bad influences.

That's kind of a shock for me, since, and I know I sound bratty saying this, I'm usually seen as sweet, demure, and a overall good girl.

I'm NOT a bad influence! I've never BEEN a bad influence!
...Now that I think about it, I am a bad influence--just in a different way. I'm a good influence because I'm a nice and smart girl. I'm a bad influence because I'm a lazybutt.
I bet the mother thinks that we don't believe in the religion of Islam; we believe in the religion of Lazybuttitude and we're trying to convert her daughters!
Well, I am a lazybutt. I won't deny that. I hate sports and physical activity. I would much rather curl up with a good book (or surf teh interwebz) than break out into a sweat running around. I swear, I will never understand athletes. Exercise isn't fun! It's torture! And yes, I am still of the belief that treadmills should be used to get information out of prisoners.

God, I hate treadmills. I destroyed the Treadmill of Doom with my DinoBots (TM), but  I didn't count on the fact that its progeny exists...

Anyway, the Souplantation dinner on my birthday was awesome! Souplantation food is yummilicious! :)

We bought cake after Souplantation to cut after Iftar (meal to break the fast) the next day, since we were too full to eat it then. And the cake was delicious! 

I'm going to have a birthday party with my friends next month, when fasting is over.

In other news, I took a blood test on the first week of August, when I was exempt from Ramadan fasting because of that...womanly time of the month. It was a fasting blood test, so it was a good thing I didn't have to fast for Ramadan since I wouldn't have been able to eat my pre-fasting meal (Suhoor is the term, if you wanted to know) since I can't eat after 12 hours before the test, and I had the test at 9:00 AM, and Suhoor was at 4:30AM. Apparently, I'm still anemic and I'm low in Vitamin D. I blame my melanin for the Vitamin D deficiency. Please ignore the fact that I go outside very rarely...I wish to keep my ignorance! Though darker skinned people do have a harder time getting Vitamin D if they live above 36 degrees North or below 36 degrees South. And I live near LA, so I count!

I just realized I can watch R rated movies now! Not that I never have (I watched Outbreak in ninth grade since my biology teacher got our parent's permission by putting it on the syllabus sheet that they have to sign and it was said that if any parent had a problem with that movie, to write a note to the teacher, but no one did.) but now I don't need permission to!

"I'm Sixteen Years Old! I'm Not A Child!"

The title was taken from a movie that I don't particularly like but don't particularly hate, either. See if you can guess it!
The title is true, but I've never had to say it to anyone in particular. I'M SIXTEEN!
I don't feel sixteen, though. I think it's because of my sixteenth birthday party.
My nonexistent sixteenth birthday party.
That's right. I didn't celebrate my sixteenth birthday! That was to show that I am mature enough to be able to turn a year older without needing childish celebrations. Cake? Pizza? Parties? Pah! who needs them?! Childishness, I tell you.

What the--? That...was not me! At all! WHY ARE YOU DOUBTING ME?...Okay, fine, it was.

First of all, my birthday was during Ramadan, and my family doesn't celebrate birthdays that fall in that holy month. Secondly, it hadn't even been forty days since my grandmother passed away, so no one was really in the mood to celebrate my becoming one year closer to death. Sure, we're not supposed to cry until forty days after a loved one's death, but celebrating something...seems wrong, don't you think?

So, what I did on my birthday was SAT prepping, fasting, and having a normal day in general (except for the fasting part). But my parents wanted to do something to recognize that it was my birthday. Even for the two years that my sister's birthday fell in the month of Ramadan, she still got a cake. So I got a pie! Two pies, actually. My sister didn't like that. She doesn't like pies.

But I only ate half a pie slice. It turns out that having six cookies and 30-ish chips isn't such a great way to break your fast if you wish to preserve your appetite. Plus, it's definitely not mature. *looks haughtily* I, uh, didn't have experience being a sixteen-year-old, that's all. Yeah, that's it. No experience. *cough* So, anyway, my mom asked me if I wanted one roti or two. I normally eat two, so I, being foolish, asked for two. By the end of that dinner, I was very full. And then I tried to down a piece of the pecan pie. But by the time I got halfway, I wanted to barf. 

Not fun at all. And throughout my eating of the pie slice, I prayed to God to please keep my dinner down. Ugh...

Well, looking at green-faced people makes me sick (sorry, aliens who are green) so here's a picture of dinobots crushing the TREADMILL OF DOOM from my "I Love Not Being in P.E.!" post.

"Hey, look, Treadmill of Doom, here are Barney and Baby Bop coming to meet you! Why are you so scared? They love you! They want to hug you! What's that? They look different? They got a makeover, silly! Now don't act all scared of them...you'we huwting theiw feewings! Uh-oh, you've made them mad!" CRUNCH! 

Poor Treadmill of Doom! It looks so scared. I almost feel sorry for it.

I shouldn't have discussed pie. I'm hungry now.