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2002-06-05
Big threatening girl
I'm such a girl.
I missed the bus, because the other bus was late, so I stopped into Boots, and saw the new beauty of my life.
Starlet cosmetics.
They're a side-project of Boots, but it has just the right amount of retro-kitsch-pink-pinup-sparkle to make me theirs forever and ever.
And the nail polish is beautiful. I have a nice dark red metallic called "Seduction" -- as it should be. I could've gotten sparkly dusting powder and body scrub and bath salts, but I'm already swamping the bathroom with a wide range of beauty products, being the largest girl known to humanity.
Big. Girl.
Perfume and bubble bath and beauty masques and nail polish and lip gloss and girl girl girl girl.
Which is funny, because I'm moving more and more to a mannish style of clothing, simply because it's easier. It's easier for work, it's easier to find stuff that fits, it's just easier in general.
So I'll be wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a huge button short-sleeve shirt and a pair of beat-up sneakers, my wallet in my right back pocket, my keys in my front left, and then a fancy rose and cinnamon perfume, lip gloss, and eyeshadow to the nines.
No, it makes no sense. But I do it anyway.
Tomorrow, I have to spend most of my evening packing for the weekend. Me, London, a Buffy convention, Charisma Carpenter...
Have I mentioned the giddyness? 'Cause, really. No, really. Let's think about this.
Still haven't figured out what the hell I think I'm wearing, though. I know that, for when you're allowed to take photos with the actors (my arm...around Charisma...excuse me, I think I might swoon a bit), I don't want to look like the biggest nerd known to humanity.
So I'm going to dress nice. Probably a bit butch, probably a bit of makeup (definitely concealer), just a respectable vaguely dykeadelic girl who happens to have her arm around the most gorgeous woman in the world and oh my god, how on earth am I going to cope with that?
No, I'll cope. I'm cool. Look at me be cool. I will go up to her, I will smile, I will say "I love your work" (and not "I love your tits", thank you very much), I will thank her, and I will be so very charming, she won't know how to deal with it.
Yeah.
I'm sauve, baby. You know it.
Then I unbutton the nice shirt, show off the Homoeroticism Yay t-shirt underneath, and go swear at my friends. Because it's a con, damnit, and if I'm not the loudest and the crudest there, it just ain't worth it.
Can't miss me, I'm the one with the purple hair with blue streaks, the Ho-yay and the UCSL shirt, and shouting at people in a loud American voice while using British slang. Can't miss me, I'm the one with my arm around my husband while discussing the merits of Cordelia/Lilah and how raunchy it could get.
Can't miss me. I'm Kate. Watch out.
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