I watched Barbara Walters' interview with Hilary Clinton last week.
The burning question: what's with the hair?
WTF? The woman is Secretary of State, responsible for ending wars and preventing atrocities and all Babs can ask her is about her hair?
Well, she does have a point.
I've been obsessing about Hil's hair for quite some time now. I'm obsessing about her hair because I've been obsessing about my own. At 56, my hair was too long. I looked like a sad folk singer still trapped in the 60s with a greying mop of unruly strands flying everywhere.
I did get it cut last year but the whole experience left me traumatized. I kept insisting that the woman shorten it up, she kept insisting I looked brilliant with long tresses cut at all angles.
The long layers made me look even more ridiculous.
Like Hillary Clinton. An old sad bag with a satchel full of elastics and scrunchies.
And my wallet was 50 bucks lighter.
So I've stayed away from hairdressers. Seems the more you spend the worse they make you look.
Women my age have no business trying to look like one of the Friends.
We need to look our age.
Like Cybil Shepherd. Or Barbra Streisand.
Yesterday, I had a meltdown. I decided to take matters into my own scissors.
I went all Miley Cyrus. I walked down the tunnel of craziness with Britney Spears.
No, I didn't behair myself. I just took the scissors and chopped it off just above my shoulders, like Granddad used cut my hair in the 60s.
It looked brilliant and cost me nothing.
I look like I'm supposed to.
Middle aged. Greying. Sort of like Margaret Atwood.
A good style for a writer.
But before I go, I have a word for you fucking hairdressers.
Women with fine hair should not wear long hair. We should not straighten it so it looks even thinner.
We should cut it short. Above the shoulder line.
Just like Granddad used to do.
Hilary, if you read this post, please take note.