i'll see you just in time to break the scene.
i'll rent a linen suit and a limousine.
and babe, i beg your pardon for this ordinary place.
i got money for the matinee of strangers,
and a million actors faces.

This weekend we're going to R's cousin's wedding. I have already set up a hair appointment-I'll be up at 7:45 am, sharp, so I can be at Mario Tricoci by 8:30. After balancing my hair color and trimming my ends, I'll have someone put my red-brown hair into soft, romantic curls and sweep it up on the sides. I have some pretty light-green clips for them to throw in that add just a touch of sparkle.

you'll pretty as a prom date
when you take all my blues.
and i won't mind all that goddamn makeup
if you wear your dancing shoes.

I'll duck into a cab to get home, my hair looking effortless and elegant, much too dressy for a Saturday morning at 10 am.

I'll slip on my red silk robe while I make sure that my eyelashes are curled, my manicure is perfect and I'm sweetly perfumed and moisturized from head to toe.

Despite the work, it is so fun to be a girl. To transform into an elegant, poised date for a wedding.

i love the way your bosom makes for an envious blouse,
gonna tie your Sunday dresses in a rope
and you crawl down the house
just to meet me.

I'll finish packing things into my overnight bag, including those fabulous makeup remover pads (Gotta have a way to undo all of that fabulous mascara, girls, right? Besides in the shower--that Marilyn Manson look isn't really me.) I'll fuss and smooth and turn and smile in the full length mirror by my bed. I'll get confident, relaxed and poised while reminding myself for the eight-hundredth time to not slurp soup, stand up straight for pictures and take it easy on the alcohol. I'll remember to really listen to people, wear my easy smile on my face as much as possible and reapply lipstick as needed in the bathroom. When you look the part, the part plays itself.


pretty girls are made for pretty pictures.