I’m strangely melancholy this morning, for reasons that utterly escape me. It’s beautiful outside, I have a cup full of icy Diet Coke in front of me, the phone is quiet, and stuff is overall pretty grood. So what’s up? Why am I beset with this rattling case of the blues?

Honestly, the only thing I can find even remotely wrong is my desperate need for a haircut. That might actually be the source of all my problems, as stupid as it sounds – I’ve gone a very long time without feeling even a little spark of “yay for me”, and that sucks.

I don’t have the most stable of self-images, and pretty much the only thing that keeps me afloat and not hiding in the closet are my occasional days of utter fabulousness. My sense of sublime has been sorely missing in action though, and it’s bringing me down. I *like* the days where I feel dazzling and cute. They don’t happen often, but I certainly appreciate them when they do. Lately I’ve been wallowing in the winter blahs, a zaftig serving of the drab housewife frump. I need .. something. A great haircut, some new ridiculous glittery thing, a kick to the rear with a 2×4 of pure glee. I hate being stuck in any kind of funk that does not involve rainbow glitter platform boots and feather boas.