Summer gifts

...She didn't want me to cut my hair. 'It's like de-sexing yourself,' She said gently.

'This little bob of yours is so chic and cute, why would you want to get rid of it?'

Because I was sick of that old permed, over-coloured mess on my head, I told her, because I wanted something new. Other excellent chum chimed in. 'To some extent she's right,' came the addition. 'There's a connection between cut hair and castration...' which might make sense if I a) had testicles and b) wore them round my ears.

The truth is I haven't felt pretty or girlish in ages. Don't get me wrong, there's no lack of vanity in my nature; my ego is plenty healthy. But I don't really want to be seen, not because of some belief that I'm hideous, just because...dunno. There is no real because. I haven't gone for any auditions, I don't want to, plain and simple. I haven't even filled out my measurements form for my agent. I can't explain it.

I have really enjoyed TV work, 6 years of playtime! But right now, it's not the end of the world emotionally if I don't do it. Writing is more important, exploring matters more.

I told her all about it, how I just didn't feel pretty; I want to like my face, my body. I told her of my desire to have a shoot sometime, to make me feel sexy and special. Excellent friend, dismayed at my lack of characteristic narcissism, has very kindly given me a voucher for a make-over photoshoot this afternoon. I have to pick out glamourous clothes. It is at this point I realise I have no glamourous clothes, or at least, none remarkable enough to warrant a photoshoot. I could try lingerie I guess, I have some beautiful corsets.

When I think of clothes and shoes, it feels like so much effort. But after all, this is play, and I've always been good at play. So I mustn't turn it into work and hassle.

Time to play.