half way down That road

Today my friend told me i was half way to bimbo.
that really worried me because

i don't want to be a bimbo.

bimbos are generally accepted as air headed girls who go to great length to maximise their looks while their brains slowly decompose and crumble into dust.
bimbos are the girls who scream really loudly in class/ the canteen/ the bus stop to attract wanted attention.
bimbos are the girls who alter their skirts to immodest lengths and who lower their belts and tighten their uniforms so the previously shapeless shift becomes something resembling a tube dress with straps.
I'm not a bimbo.
My school dress is still sack like and shapeless.
I don;t scream for attention. i have trouble raising my voice to be loud enough in class presentations and announcements for that matter.
I'm not airheaded, i think about things. I am an INFJ, which means i am internally focused and primarily intuitive, though i can also be secondarily feeling, which means i deals with things according to how i feel about them or how they fit with your personal value system. I
apparently live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities, and know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. And i am usually right.
I also apparently have uncanny insight into people and situations, and get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. However, because people apparently do not understand me, I am protective of my inner self, sharing only what I choose to share when I choose to share it.
And i am also supposed to be capable of great depth of feeling and personal achievement.

All these point to one conclusion, that:
a) I am a social chameleon who changes my persona in different circumstances to accommodate different kinds of people. This explains the half bimboticness. You see, with my friends (most of them anyway) i try to be happy all the time. I never discuss dreary or sorrowful topics, i never seriously talk about my own troubles, unless i over dramatize or joke about it. I don;t want my friends to bear the burdens i bear the secrets i hold (most of them not my own, which makes holding them even harder) perhaps my ubiquitus boisterousness has been taken as bimboism. i shudder at the thought. I am going to try to be more serious with my friends, tell them and ask them about the things i really care about, not the mundance everyday quirks that seem to dominate our converstaion now (once  again i stress that this is not with ALL friends, to some, who have known me long or deep, they know a fraction of what i reallly want to say.) But i fear that my own fear of being seen as a kill joy or a wet blanket will soon cause me to revert back to my veneer of carefree joy in front of certain people. and why begrudge that? i mean, joy is something fine. i sincerely do fee joyful when i'm with these friends because for a time i can be another kind of me, a me that is forgetting her troubles for a while. Yes i am very muddled but it is ten at night.
b) Like Anne Frank, I have an inner miriam and an outer miriam.
i don;t think anyone has seen the inner miriam and it seems unlikely that anyone will in the near future.
i alone know this miriam (no not even my best friends know this miriam because she sometimes disgusts herself, perplexes herself and enchants herself in equal measure.)

This post is very convulated and confusing but really, i'm an INFJ so forgive me :)