Model Paris Hilton once said, “No matter what a woman looks like, if she’s confident, she’s sexy.”

On the Friday before Spring Break, I looked confident, all right.

Equipped with a stunningly attractive neon-blue wig, I displayed my gorgeous costume to a world not yet ready for newspaper experiments, true beauty or Katy Perry.

My time to take the spotlight came early in the morning, when I had to present a poster in AP European History.

Mr. Sheehy said that my poster looked good, but that my hair looked even better. Well, that’s how I remember it, at least. The blue hair kept falling on my face, so I wasn’t really paying attention to much else.

I got a lot more compliments later on in the day by people informing me “you can’t go outside wearing that.” Although this could be seen as an insult, I’m positive they just feared that I would be instantly drafted into a strenuous career of modeling. Others were trying to pull the wig off of my head, likely in disbelief of my breathtaking beauty.

I decided I had to go to the rally during tutorial to show off my fabulous new ensemble to a wider audience.

Many asked me if I would be performing in the rally. After a while, I realized that I was probably dressed too outlandishly to participate even in the shaving cream tub or hungry hippos game.

But in all seriousness — adrenaline and false confidence aside — I don’t think neon-blue is the right color for me.

At first, appearing so daringly audacious seemed like an adventure, with everyone commenting on the change.

After a while, though, the excitement wore away, and I no longer felt special, only ugly.

I began to really think about it. If my brother hears about this, he’ll forcefully demand that I reconsider my life and fashion choices — I was risking my life for the chance to appear hideous.

After the thousandth time I had to fling my luscious locks out of my face, I threw off my wig.

I’m not one to shy away from attention. In fact, I liked the spotlight, as short as it lasted, and I loved how I instantly threw people off balance.

I know it’s awkward to admit, but I felt attractive. Although I didn’t feel legitimately good-looking, I think the facade of confidence worked so well, that I felt like I actually had something to be proud about — this is how I felt beautiful with a hideous blue wig.

Paris Hilton was right; confidence really does bring attractiveness. A neon-blue wig, however, does not.