Somewhere between experimenting with girlishness and bitching about it, I figured out how to integrate some of these disparate rituals into a cohesively girlie whole. It's almost eerie the way these things have started to fit together for me.

A couple of weeks ago, for example, I got a manicure. No research. No big event. In fact, i had absolutely no good reason to do it at all. I simply looked at my hands one day and thought they could use a little pampering. Sure, I screwed it up by playing with my cats too quickly afterwards. And sure, it was November and my hands were constantly gloved. The point is, I did this very girlish thing just as a treat for myself. And i thought, “I could get used to this.”

Of course, the easiest way to get my girlie on is still to gear up for some big event. I've discovered that the hidden key to extreme party-related girlishness is planning. If you want to look your absolute best – or at least your absolute femmiest – at the right time you've got to visualize. You get an image in your head of how you want to look. Then you carefully plot a course toward it. Most importantly, you have to maintain focus throughout all your preparations.

That is how, on Thanksgiving morning, I found myself sitting in an IHOP restaurant in Benton Harbor, Mich., with my hair rolled up into homemade curls secured willy-nilly with about 45 bobby pins. The pins stuck out from my head at all kinds of crazy angles, but I didn't let the confused stares of my fellow breakfast patrons deter me from my ultimate goal. I calmly ate my omelet knowing that my hair insanity served a higher purpose.

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