I’m crying while I’m reading the news. Farrah Fawcett died today. I’m not usually one who cries much over celebrities or death, but I’m crying for her.
I was never a big fan of hers, but she exploded into the public eye at a time when I was down and alone and needed to believe in beauty and hope. I wore my hair in a Farrah shag — who didn’t, that summer? Woman’s Day (or was it Ladies’ Home Journal?) had directions for how to cut it yourself at home, so my mom used that to cut my hair, and then I cut my daughter’s hair in the same style. And I walked a little taller because it didn’t matter what had happened in the past, there was still the future ahead.
It doesn’t seem right that someone so vibrant and beautiful is gone. But I suppose that’s the way of the world.
It caught me off guard as well, and so did my reaction (i am not a star struck kind of gal:). She was a figure from my childhood, and to have her and MJ go on the same day really brought me back…