When to complain and when to shut up

I got off the bus in front of the building where I work this morning and a woman approached me. A lot more people have given me second looks, complimented me and otherwise tried to get my attention since my latest chemistry experiment, in which I ended up blonder than ever before.

"I love your purse," she said.

I love it, too. My sister C. brought me this awesome D&G knockoff (I think) bag from New York. It's shiny and huge and green like a salamander.

"I feel like women should be more feminine, like we're losing that," she said. "I saw your scarf and thought, "oh good for her, good for anyone who would wear that. You look very French."

I admit that I felt pretty great in my green and silver scarf and black outfit, with the white cupcake earrings that I look for any excuse to wear (thanks to my sister S.). It felt...complicated that conforming to such a stereotype can earn such praise.

So in keeping with liking to feel like a woman and not liking it, when I met a woman entrepreneur on my way home who was selling flowers, I bought myself a bouquet of a dozen white roses. Which she sold to me for $15, so she wouldn't have to take them home again.

I've never really bought myself flowers before, but I really recommend it.