Today I smell like Old Spice. I'm out of deodorant, and wearing my lover's is preferable to wearing none. I rubbed lotion scented with apricot and rose into my skin so I wouldn't smell quite so masculine, but it didn't work. I don't really mind. I like the way it smells. It reminds me of days when we make love in the morning, and his scent stays on my skin all day. I read an article once on how men's pheromones have a calming affect on women. I believe it.

The other day I dreamed I dyed my hair many colors - influenced, perhaps, by the variegated pastel yarn I'm using to crochet a baby blanket. The baby blanket is a gift to Heather, my best friends older sister. Heather had an abortion a few years ago. I found out about it the day before I had an abortion myself, nearly two years ago. She broke the news and invited me to her baby shower over the phone a few weeks ago.. I cried and cried that day. My boyfriend didn't understand why. "That's a good thing, right?" He asked, when I told him that she was pregnant. Maybe he's forgotten, since I no longer talk about it, how badly I long for a child of my own. Maybe he's forgotten how that longing drove me insane for a few months earlier this year... or maybe I'm forgetting that nobody but me really knew how insane I was. And I didn't even realize it until after the fact.

One of the colors of my hair in my dream was a certain blue - I don't even know the name of it, or if it has a name. It's a color close to peacock blue or cerulean, the color of the sky at night sometimes, after the sunset colors have faded, before darkness has really fallen. I point at it and tell my lover, "That's the color I would like to dye my hair, if I were to dye it." In my dream, I saw the patch of my hair that was this color, and was pleased because it looked good. My lover tells me that he doesn't mind if I dye my hair like that; he just minds if I dye my hair some fake natural shade - red, black, blonde.. I would never dye my hair blonde.

I'm dressed beautifully on this autumn day - this skirt is the Best Skirt in the World. It's a vintage skirt, from the sixties, purchased on Ebay for sixteen bucks, back in the summer when I could still afford my Ebay addiction. The skirt is long and made of lovely panels of velvet in floral designs of rusts, browns, creams.. seperated by black ribbon. Today I'm wearing it with a black sweater that is thin and ribbed and very elegant. I remember donning this shirt one day last autumn, paired with a different skirt, wearing Yves Saint Laurent, hoping to catch the eye of someone in my class - the same someone whose deodorant I'm now wearing. I didn't see him that day. But he has come to associate the scent of sandalwood with me, and this morning, he told me I looked very pretty.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.