Barbra

Barbra, I’m here to help you.

You still sing good! You’re a great songwriter, a
successful author, a movie superstar, a terrific
director, sold 72 million albums, awarded a
Grammy, an Emmy, an Oscar, and a Tony, support
civil rights foundations and philanthropic causes,
and got The Medal of Freedom from President
Obama…but your hair is driving me nuts.

Maybe you’re wondering who do I think I am to
find anything wrong with you, Barbra. You’re a
diva, an icon, the crème de la crème, worth $400
million and I’m from New Jersey.

But I am only telling you this for your own good.
I really care about you even though we’ve never
met. Actually, it’s much easier to care about people
you never met rather than friends and relatives
you don’t particularly like.

Your blond hair has to go. You’re 78 years old. You
can sing “The Way We Were” but you can’t be the
way you was. Only Dolly Parton can get away with
being blond in her 70s.

And your hairdo drives me batty. It’s the same as
every girl in high school—long, straight, parted in
the middle, and hanging. You graduated from Erasmus
high school in Flatbush 62 years ago.

You’re Barbra!
You’re different.

Oh, did I mention your lipstick. No good. You’re too
pale. You look blah. You need color in your face. You
should be wearing red lipstick. AOC wears red lipstick
and people who don’t even like her politics like her
lipstick. (FYI: It’s Beso—Stila’s Stay All Day Liquid Lipstick—
$22. You can afford it.)

The sad fact is men pay more attention to a looker, Barbra.
Should we blame men for women finding so many flaws
in themselves?

Maybe we should blame mothers who want their
daughters to be everything they’re not. Maybe it’s our
own fault. Why do we compare ourselves to every other
woman. Why do we buy rapid wrinkle repair
advertised by an 18-year-old model?

Women find faults in their looks like Sherlock Holmes
looking for a murderer.

I’m a woman. I have a mirror. I have flaws. I’ve been
working on them since I started reading Cosmopolitan
Magazine when I was 12. That’s when I learned that
irregular features are what make you unique.
According to Cosmo, you should dramatize them and
be proud of them.

I stopped reading Cosmo a long time ago but I’m still
working on my flaws. I wonder if I’ll ever be proud of
them.

I guess Frida Kahlo didn’t read Cosmo. She kept her
unibrow and her mustache.

Ask any woman what she’d like to change about herself
and she’ll come up with a list. What happened to her
neck and her thighs and everything in between. Her
boobs are too big or too small, ditto for her butt. Her
waist went someplace. Her upper arms wave. Her hair
is no longer her friend.

Men aren’t so hard on themselves. They don’t compare
their looks to James Bond. Ask a man what he’d like to
change about himself and he might answer his wife or
his job.

Please note, I’m not commenting on your nose.
According to Cosmo, your nose makes you unique.
Maybe you didn’t even have to sing. So keep your nose

 

You can also keep your clothes. They cover what
they should for a woman of your age.

I hope this is helpful, Barbra. Don’t hesitate to call
me for more advice.

You’re just a button click away and I’d love
to hear from you.

About your world, your family,
your joys
and frustrations, growing up, growing older, even recipes– even though I stopped cooking–by request–years ago.

Goodbye until next time…

Hope your day turns out as well as I hope(but doubt) mine will,

Gingy (Ilene)