I have a confession to make: I AM A GIRLY-GIRL.

Well okay, sometimes. Most of my friends may not believe this but there are times when I like girly stuff, like fashion. Sometimes I daydream wearing fashionable clothes instead of the drab ones I usually wear at work. Or wear stilettos instead of dirty sneakers; fashionable blouses (complete with the accessories) instead of the plain t-shirts; and stylish pants or cute skirts instead of faded, worn out jeans.

Then there's my short, lifeless hair that grows out too fast. Sometimes I want to curl it or straighten it.

And of course, there's the make-up that I hardly ever wear. Sometimes I wonder what I would look like if I put eyeliners, eye shadows, and mascara.

In short, I want to be at least presentable when I go out into the world. Every Monday, I step into a building where almost all people look like they stepped out of a magazine. Every Tuesday to Thursday, people look decently dressed in their semi-business attires. Every Friday, people show off their fashionable individuality. And every Sunday, I hang out with 3 of the best dressed people in church.

And what do I look like? Take Sunday, for example. None of my clothes match and I always lug around a huge backpack. On work days, I wear jeans, blouse, doll shoes, and a backpack. Yes, I bring backpack to work. I look more like a student than a working person. No wonder some people don't take me seriously.

Once, I tried working to express my inner girly-girl. I started with the hair, then the clothes, picked the right shoes, and finally applied the cheap make-up (minus the eye make-ups).

For a few months, I was able to maintain it. But after a while, I got tired of it.

It's always like that. I would start working my way to becoming a presentable citizen of the working class when I'll once again return to my drab ways. I would simply get tired of pampering myself.

In spite of my inner girly-girl, my simplicity in fashion still dominates. Or perhaps it's laziness. Out of our Sunday group, I'm the most raggedly-looking one. Even when we ate at this high-end hotel-restaurant last Christmas, I came wearing a white t-shirt, cargo pants and hideous sneakers. The hotel staff probably thought I was an alalay of one of my friends.

Ha, I looked so simple.

Out of all the women living in the world right now, I'm probably the only who doesn't have morning and evening rituals. I'm so weird. HAHA.

There may be a girly-girl side of me but the real me is would ought for comfort.

But it's still fun to daydream about being glamorous once in a while.