It's a matter of choice, my love!

Pondering on a makeover for myself, I realize the inner struggle. The perturbing questions on preference verses likes. Could there be mutual ground with self? Is it possible to not clash thy inner beauty? While rolling over in bed I quietly voiced my indecision to thy loving husband. He assuredly says, "it's a matter of choice, my love..." I'm sorry...what? More decisions! I can't even predict how I will be feeling tomorrow, let alone make choices. Okay...so choose. If all else fails, then change. This sounds easy! The dreaded makeover will take place at 5:30pm today. I should have my choice by then.