I have two dreams. You can make one come true.
I run my fingers down the row, feeling silk and cotton and linen slip past my fingers. Stop. A flash of red catches me. How could I have forgotten? I pull out the red silk dress with a black ribbon waist, the memory of buying it at that cute little boutique pouring back into my mind. How could I have forgotten? Yet it's hidden, a forgotten lily, in the folds of my closet. My fingers slip on. Purple. Blue. Green. My fingers grasp at more and more skirts and corsets and sundresses I'd forgotten.
My heart pulses as I pull each out, holding it up, trying it on, plotting what soiree I'll trot it out on the town for. I thrill at how cute each is and how cute I'll be.
Then I wake up. My mind runs through my closet, realizing it was just a dream. I have this dream over and over and over. For all my talk of postmodernism and justice and literary criticism, I really just want to be a pretty, pretty princess at heart.
My Second Dream
I spend my Friday nights with two of my bestest friends, Stacy and Clinton. I love them. Clinton could make a clown suit look good and Stacy is my style guru. (When shopping, I ask myself: Would Stacy do this?)
My dream: Nominate me to be on their show! I know that I don't exactly have the worst fashion style, but I don't necessarily have the best either. (For those of you who, sadly, don't know what I'm talking about What Not to Wear is a show you can nominate your fashion-challenged friends to get a style makeover on.)
Why should the schlumps have all the fun? Shouldn't I get on for good behavior?
Youth is wasted on the young, and Stacy and Clinton's fashion is wasted on the ungrateful schlumps.
So here's the plan: You nominate me, and I'll do my part to look as tragic as possible for the secret cameras. Better yet, nominate Mike and me. Sell us as tragically "outdoorsy" nature lovin' types who are trying to crack into the hard, slick, and fast world of publishing. You know we'll never make it without you and Stacy and Clinton. The future of our careers (and my dreams) rests in your hands. You know what to do.