Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

If I had the chance to change into someone else's version of me, would I take it? I don't know. It's kind of a scary thought. For most people, I think, being what someone else wants is the easiest choice. But for me, being what I want has always been my way, pretty much ever since I could dress myself. Blue glitter lipstick in 3rd grade, cutting off all my hair in 5th, black lipstick and band-aid elf ears in 8th, and striped tights and dyed hair in high school. And now I'm here, in Italy, with the chance to be changed...my first instinct is to refuse, in part because my individuality has always been such a part of me, and also 'cause I'm a little terrified. But then...I don't know. Why not? I'm already being forced to abandon (for now) some of my trademarks and favourite things...And it's not like I can't go back. If I can't handle this new thing all it'll take is a bottle of black hair dye, a little black eyeliner and my old clothes. Put Louis XIV on the stereo, turn on the computer, and I'm good to go.


Later
Well, so much for big decisions made during math class...I thought I could do it, thought I could let them mold me. Well, I thought wrong. We went shopping for a shirt to wear, and, after trying to convince them that I didn't want something "sexy" I ended up with a long sleeve, kind of olive and cream striped shirt with a collar and snap things. Of course, there was a really cute dress that I wanted, but I decided that it was too hard to say I wanted a little black spaghetti strap number after insisting on snapping up all the snaps on my shirt. Once I got home and put on the shirt again, though, I realized that I really don't like it at all. Oh well, it was only 14 euro. I didn't end up wearing it that night...our plans changed about, oh, I don't know, 17 times, and we ended up going to the disco instead of hanging out in the piazza. So Grazia, Daniela, and Angela helped me pick out something to wear. And by helped I mean took pretty much everything I own and went "No...". I swear, if I get asked if I have anything "normal" or "not black" one more time I will cry. I ended up wearing jeans and my pink polka dotted h&m tank with my long black h&m shirt over it ['cause I didn't have any acceptable jackets]. My hair, which I had waxed, sprayed, and clipped back, because it was messy and I didn't want to deal with it if we were just going to the piazza, was brushed out into a kind of...I don't know...almost the Nicole Ritchie bob goin' on. I ended up liking the end result, but the process was just too painful and depressing. The disco sucked too but that's another matter for another entry.

So yeah, any mAjick transformations will happen if I decide them to, and I'm going to decide what I'm transforming into. I even decided not to cut my bangs like they wanted, as I'm growing them out...I think one thing that doesn't help is that the clothes stores they have here sometimes aren't that expensive, but thusly are kind of...well...cheap. I've only bought that tshirt, and then a sweatshirt yesterday [for 15 euro], and I think that's all the clothing money SMaV is a-gonna get from me, unless I see something I must have. I'd rather spend my money in Paris or Milan, because [a] the clothes are probably cuter, and [b] isn't it more exciting to say "I got this in Paris" or "Milan" than, "Oh, you like this shirt? It's from Santa Maria A Vico. Yeah, I know."

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changin',
Bee Electric