IN WHICH I CONSIDER THE BENEFITS OF BEING STRANDED.
Hair is sexual, plain and simple. When Delilah cut off Samson’s, he lost his power, a metaphor if there ever was one: what’s more sexually attractive, on either sex, than a nice head of hair?
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IN WHICH I HAVE A BAD FATTITUDE.
For some time now, ever since the dawn of the self-help movement in the Seventies, it has been fashionable to worship a new deity on the block, Self-Esteem. That which was denied us boomers by our often petrified, repressed and distant parents, is now the cornerstone for raising an “empowered” child. Kids born in the last thirty years enjoy the constant stroking of helicopter, “friend” parents who assure the child will never experience even the most minor disappointment.
I'm a gorgeous goddess of a certain age who transformed from shot to hot, a feminist playa refusing to go into the sunset without a Mojito in one hand and a hunka hunka burnin' love in the other! Because sixty IS the new forty or even thirty I will not be dying with my boots on, but with my Jimmy Choo stilettos, thank you very much. I, a sexually liberated woman, stand defiantly against ageism and sexism, adamantly asserting not only is it possible to maintain and even enhance our sexual allure as we ripen, we women have the same right as men to vibrant vitality and romance at any age.