Hypocritical much?

The title is an attack on myself. This post, when compared to my last one, is very hypoctrical. You know that Greek guy, Hypocrites? (pronounced Hip-oh-kret-ees) Well, I’m his mother.

The word hypocrisies? It should be hypocrisis. Not that there’s a hippo crisis. There could be, but my own dilemma has turned my thoughts to myself in a selfish, artificial way.

The source of this dilemma, this conundrum? My hair.

I reeeeeally want a haircut. I would like to get a haircut. I’d love a haircut – I need a haircut!

Soon I will be going to Italy and I have heard a few times recently that, upon meeting me, people tend to thing I’m a goody-two shoes who sits home and knits. “Really boring”, one girl said. “A good girl”, a work colleague said. “Kind of quiet”, from another.

While I honestly do sit home and knit sometimes, and I’m more of an introvert than an extrovert, and I hate getting into trouble, I want to be someone who looks exciting and fun because I am fun.

But – I am scared. I don’t want to be passed over because I look boring. First impressions are big in this society – seeing someone’s face on a display picture on Facebook can define one person’s impression of another. I don’t want to look boring, I want something happening on my face, something that makes me stick in people’s mind.

I want a different look and my hair is something that can do that.

Even though it is superficial. Even though it *gasp* costs money. Even though it’s all of that – it’s just a haircut.

Buuuuut…. I want one.

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Dream

This is not the recount of a dream I had one night, but the revelation of a dream I have had many times, during the day.

I dream that one day my… friend… will ask me on a date. He needs a date for some unknown reason, and he needs her to dress formally. I am the one he needs.

I dress well, and could knock him down with a feather as a result. I already know what dress I would wear: my black one, with a zip down the front, a full skit to the knees, and tailored to perfection so that it shows off my waist and invents a bust.

We have a wonderful evening, in this dream of mine. An evening of flirting, to make it look real in front of other guests of this mysterious host; excellent food, of course; and a… happy ending.

I want any readers of this to understand that I don’t want any romantic proposition from this friend. I want a romantic evening, that’s all.

I guess that I also want to be needed,instead of cast into shadows. I thought that I was ready to give him up, but now I know that what I need is to change our relationship.

For a start, in this dream of mine, the flirting leads, somehow or other, to serious communication. That is what I need. I want him to need me; and I need communication and romance… just a bit.