difflam is my new best friend

The problem with dresses (or even skirts), for me, is that whenever I dare to wear one, I spend the entire time expecting someone to jump out from behind the nearest suitable hiding place crying, "A-ha! Gotcha! What we have here, ladies and gentleman, is a fraud!" (That, and I really don't like my knees. But that's a lesser problem, because skirts and dresses can still hide knees.)

No, I don't understand the inner workings of my brain, either. I never claimed to be rational, you know.

The reason this is a problem, of course, is that an Australian summer is very often too hot for the wearing of jeans. Doesn't matter how skimpy your singlet-top might be. Thus, I am left with a dilemma of wearing jeans and, at some point during family festivities dropping of heat exhaustion, or wearing a dress and spending the day nervously looking for lurkers in hidden corners.

It is entirely possible that the diatribe above was inspired by dental pain.

In other cat-waxing fun, there's a database which will analyse your mug and tell you which celebrity you resemble: MyHeritage.com Face Recognition. I ran one of the wedding photos through it, and scored Greta Garbo (66%), Alyson Hannigan (66%), Ava Gardner (60%), Audrey Tautou (59%), Viven Leigh (56%). (The list went on, but the percentages start getting too close to 50% and really, can a 50% resemblance be significant? Given that nobody has ever said to me, gee, you really look like Greta Garbo, I'm fairly tempted to say even a 66% resemblance isn't significant. But if significance was valued more than fun or procrastination, we would all be meme-less, so who am I to argue?)

And now, if you'll excuse me, it's Christmas. I'm planning on a couple of them this year, myself. Back when it's done.

3 thoughts on “difflam is my new best friend

  1. Why would you fear being called a fraud? Though I can sympathize. I hardly ever wear dresses or skirts (though I have a closetfull of them, go figure), and everytime I do, I always feel like I'm 2 seconds away from tripping in the hem and landing flat on my face.

  2. I wish you hadn't mentioned that face recognition thing–it's an ace waste of time (that I'm supposed to be spending writing a certain book that's due 3 Jan—Gulp!). Apparently I look 71% like John Lennon and 66% like John Cusack. I've always known I was meant to be a boy.

    You don't look like any of the people you were matched to.

    I know exactly what you mean about the fraud thing, though I think of it as drag-queening. I always feel like I'm in drag in a frock or skirt or when wearing make-up, but now I enjoy it. After all drag queens have fun with it—why can't we?

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