I think you're sauceome.

Here’s the thing. I have never, ever been good at the girly stuff. When I was younger, I convinced myself it was because I had more important things to think about, that dressing up and feeling pretty were lesser pursuits, and the girls who cared about such things were petty, boring and vapid. But obviously, it’s possible to be smart and talented and clever and interesting and ALSO pretty. They’re not mutually exclusive. I think maybe somewhere deep down inside I decided that the girly stuff was a game I couldn’t possibly win, so I would remove myself from play. No, more than that, I would remove myself and also exhibit nothing but disdain for the game itself.

So now I’m really bad at this stuff, as evidenced maybe by the bright magenta slipper socks I wore to try the dress on (it’s a cold night, and they are exceedingly warm, and were hand-knitted for me by Niles’s mom!). I have gotten a pedicure exactly once, and the lady scolded me the entire time, mostly for picking blue nail polish (“This is color for twelve year old GIRL,” she whined. Well, maybe I’m making up for lost time, lady.) I spared you guys drawing my shaggy legs, I haven’t shaved them in several weeks because they’re always hiding under layers of long underwear this time of year.
I guess what I’m saying is, I need to do things like buy shoes for this dress, and figure out how to do my hair, and while I feel a little puzzled and stymied by all of it I’m also a little bit giddily excited… maybe like a twelve year old girl would be?