'Oh, this old thing?!'

r.e. Dressing up: Twelfth night since mardi gras…

Lemon pips and cocktail sticks
Undone.

r.e. Dressing down:
No more dressing gowns at noon. [improbable]

I drew on my face: think, blink, wink.
Zip it.

Calm.

Identifying with female protagonists is for the emotionally flatulent, right?
That said, when I tried it all got a bit bleak.


‘She had an immense capacity for coolness and an appearance of calm that hid violent fits of passion’ - of Thérèse Raquin (Thérèse Raquin, Émile Zola).

‘I was in my own room as usual--just myself without obvious change: nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me...Jane Eyre, who has been an ardent, expectant woman--almost a bride--was a cold, solitary girl again: her life was pale’ - Jane Eyre, (Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë).
How hatefully self-indulgent, of both of us.

‘you should know that about me. You should be aware of my principle characteristic which I choose to call my calmness. Other people have called it coldness, lack of commitment, over-control, a fishy disposition. I say that I’m calm, a calm person, and usually leave it at that, but I feel you should be better informed.’ - Jennifer (So I am Glad, A. L. Kennedy).

Masochistic asceticism, or sadistic ultraviolence it is, then.
I’m all amull with the possibilities.