Blog
Women like to eat
A woman eating is not inherently shocking. Nor intrinsically amazing, repulsive, exciting, unseemly, or even noteworthy. Yet the following statements or situations indicate otherwise.
A woman orders dessert. Her girlfriend is encouraging, “Go ahead, you deserve it.”
A woman who’s eating alone or with others in a restaurant leaves food on her plate.
Women friends say to a server about the desserts they’re all contemplating, “We don’t need this, but . . .”
A woman offers, “This is sinful,” as she and a girlfriend eye the sweets on display which will soon be on their table.
A man watching a woman eat her dessert with gusto and exclamations of delight interjects, “Sounds orgasmic!”
Frizzy hair 2
One of my friends, whose hair texture is much like mine, said that her husband–now ex-husband–criticized her “frizzy” hair. Another friend told me, when I was in the dressing room of a theater preparing for a performance on a very humid monsoon evening in Tucson, that she loves my hair. “It’s so big!” I exclaimed. She said, “Yeah, that’s called volume. Wish I had it.” 
Humidity has a literally and figuratively huge effect on my hair, so it’s pretty straight in dry weather and can become truly voluminous in, say, monsoon season (late June into September) in Tucson or when I’m in London. My last time there I wondered how the women (and it did seem to be all of them) could have straight, smooth hair when mine was simply enormous. But then I thought, Aha! Now I know why Rossetti’s women have the hair they do. Dante Gabriel Rossetti was a 19th-century English artist and poet whose paintings of women, often in the midst of flowers, I’ve loved since at least my late teens. You’d think I would have come up with my recent idea of why the Rossetti woman’s hair is big and fuzzy a while back, considering that I admired Rossetti’s paintings, and identified with the Rossetti woman, when I first visited London long ago. Magnificent hair, whether red, blonde, or brunette–its glorious weight of sexiness and sensuality and, simultaneously, what I imagine to be its breathtaking lightness to the touch. 
Frizzy hair 1
A few people have called my hair frizzy to my face. So I imagine that others have called it frizzy when I’m not around. As any woman knows, frizzy is not a a compliment, because frizziness has meant not-smooth, not-polished. Definitely not glamorous. And, obviously, wrong. In other words, frizzy hair has been an embarrassment.
So, imagine my delighted surprise when I saw super-frizzy hair in the September Vogue and Bazaar (both of them American editions). The Prada ads feature sleekly dressed and styled models with long, ethereally fuzzy hair! Sort of angelic when the light shines through it. A big, soft froth of hair also adorns models in two more ads in the Vogue, and in a spread on coats that covers 10 editorial pages, a dark-haired woman with reddish-purple lips sports a captivatingly outrageous do–it looks like a hat sometimes–that sticks out like cotton candy wings on either side of her head. Wigs or whatever, I don’t care! Upon first seeing all of this amazing divergence from the doctrinal convention of straight-and-smooth (with maybe a little waviness), I wanted to make a T-shirt that displays one or two of the images and wear it around wherever I went.
All that frizzy means is tufts or tight curls. Interesting that on my computer the dictionary’s use of “frizzy” in a sentence is this: “her hair was frizzed up in a style that seemed matronly.” Which suggests that frizz and looking youthful or fashionable don’t go together.
A boyfriend of mine–in a recent and relatively short-lived relationship–thought that I wanted hair that’s glossy. Glossy was his word. He didn’t tell me that my hair was frizzy, but he did think that because it didn’t usually display the shine of smooth, contained styles, my hair was dry and unhealthy. My hairstylist would have told him otherwise! And . . . my hair sparkles in the sunlight.
Lipstick and heat
How perfect gorgeous red lipstick is on the hottest of desert days. MAC’s Lady Danger when it’s 101 degrees.
