Drawing #1
Drawing #2
Like seriously, I look so much like my father, that if I wanted to know how he would look in my mother's dress (not that I've ever wanted to know that), I wouldn't even had to use my imagination, only to put it on. I look so much like him, that sometimes when I look in the mirror before leaving home, I start to worry if people on the streets will thik I'm a transvestite. I look so much like him, that there was a time when I was considered a boy by someone. But why should I be surprised: even my granny said looking at a photo of me: “That's your father, isn't he?” And make no mistake. She meant it. Gosh, there are girls so beautifully girlish, that sometimes I almost explode by jealousy. Why couldn't I inherit my mother's look instead like every normal girl?
And besides this, there is one other wonderful thing I inherited of my father. My name. If you are not Hungarian, you might not know, but my family name means “Alexander” in Hungarian. And to increase the confusion, us Hungarians use their family names in the first place and our "first names" in the second place. (So our first name is not our first name. Get it?) I just can't tell you how many times have I been considered a guy by mistake and called a short form of my family name – which unfortunately does not sound even a bit as cool as its English form. Once I even considered to marry the first guy I bump into to get a cooler name. But then I changed my mind after realizing that in that case my middle name would be “Alexander” which leads to more confusion…
Hungarian translations:
1. kép:
Mos' komolyan? Egy pók?
2. kép:
Anyám ruháját hordom...
... miközben úgy nézek ki, mint az apám...
... ez ööö... meglehetősen...
... érdekes.
Kimondottan érdekes.
Drawing #2
Like seriously, I look so much like my father, that if I wanted to know how he would look in my mother's dress (not that I've ever wanted to know that), I wouldn't even had to use my imagination, only to put it on. I look so much like him, that sometimes when I look in the mirror before leaving home, I start to worry if people on the streets will thik I'm a transvestite. I look so much like him, that there was a time when I was considered a boy by someone. But why should I be surprised: even my granny said looking at a photo of me: “That's your father, isn't he?” And make no mistake. She meant it. Gosh, there are girls so beautifully girlish, that sometimes I almost explode by jealousy. Why couldn't I inherit my mother's look instead like every normal girl?
And besides this, there is one other wonderful thing I inherited of my father. My name. If you are not Hungarian, you might not know, but my family name means “Alexander” in Hungarian. And to increase the confusion, us Hungarians use their family names in the first place and our "first names" in the second place. (So our first name is not our first name. Get it?) I just can't tell you how many times have I been considered a guy by mistake and called a short form of my family name – which unfortunately does not sound even a bit as cool as its English form. Once I even considered to marry the first guy I bump into to get a cooler name. But then I changed my mind after realizing that in that case my middle name would be “Alexander” which leads to more confusion…
Hungarian translations:
1. kép:
Mos' komolyan? Egy pók?
2. kép:
Anyám ruháját hordom...
... miközben úgy nézek ki, mint az apám...
... ez ööö... meglehetősen...
... érdekes.
Kimondottan érdekes.
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