I guess women newscasters have to be beautiful. Bad news doesn’t seem so bad if it’s delivered by a young blonde who looks like she should be in a beauty pageant.

Maybe they should be wearing bathing suits.

Men like to look at young, sexy women. I like to look at other women, too, at how they do their hair and make-up, what they’re wearing.

A woman news anchor never wears the same outfit twice. I don’t have a big enough wardrobe to be a news anchor. I’ve been known to wear the same outfit for weeks. Why put on something you just ironed to go to Shoprite?

I also couldn’t be a news anchor because I’m a grandmother. You can’t be a grandmother unless you look like Jane Pauley. She’s 67. I think she cloned herself at 28.

Apparently, you also have to be a size 0 to read the news. I was a size 0 when I was born but I couldn’t read then.

You have to wear fake eyelashes whether you’re delivering fake news or not. I bought a pair of eyelashes at Walmart once. One of them fell on the floor and I stepped on it. I thought it was a centipede.

Your teeth have to look like chicklets. My dentist told me that I need a lot of work on my teeth. George Burns, the wonderful comedian, on his hundred birthday said, “If I knew I’d live so long I’d take better care of my teeth.” I never realized how smart he was. He also said “Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.”

Despite the long hours, you can’t have bags under your eyes if you’re a newscaster. I have bags under my eyes. I tried Estee Lauder Advanced Night Repair Eye Recovery Complex once. Cucumbers work better. And they’re a lot cheaper. They don’t even have to be organic.

Even though I could never be an anchor woman on TV, I could on the radio. You don’t even have to comb your hair on the radio. I remember being interviewed by a very large woman on the radio who mentioned on air she wore a size 8.

I’d be okay on the radio. I have lots of opinions on everything and everybody. The only problem is, I know few facts. But facts don’t seem to matter these days.

I wish I’d paid more attention to facts in elementary school. I was very shy. I kept wishing I’d get chickenpox and measles and mumps and a sore throat and have to stay home. The only thing I remember about Central America is that Imelda Marcos had a lot of shoes.

In my all girls high school, I spent most of the time day dreaming that maybe someday, some boy, any boy, would appear from somewhere, anywhere, and ask me to his prom so I could buy a turquoise prom dress like the one I saw on the cover of Seventeen Magazine.

In college I spent my Freshman year fawning over my sociology professor—which turned out better than anybody thought because after we were married, because I was a faculty wife, I didn’t have to pay for the last three years of college. So it didn’t really matter too much when we got divorced.

You never know where you’ll end up until you get there. And you’ll never know, no matter what the newscasters say what will happen, until it happens. One of these days, you might turn on Channel 2 and they’ll be a robot delivering the news – but I bet it will be a blonde robot with false eyelashes.

 

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)