The Beauty Team

You got that right, Sistah.

Inner beauty. They say it's more important that outer beauty. But let's face it. It's nice to look good on the outside, too, or at least, arrive somewhere in the vicinity. To paraphrase the late great Leonard Cohen, something I've never done, but why should that stop me, in my nearly 61 years on Planet Panic, I've come so far for beauty. The lifelong, never-ending, pricey maintenance of my short Jewish personage. The haircare. The skincare. And now, in a starry alignment this former astrology columnist never could've foreseen, as of this week, the SJG Beauty Team, including Renee, commander in chief of my baby fine ka-ka hair, Lenny, commander in chief of my hair color, and Lynne, commander in chief of my punim, shall gather in one, that's right, one locale. What I'm saying is the SJG Beauty Team is together at last. They can all consult with each other over what to do with me and all my beauty issues. They can even hold secret conversations by the bowls in the back. Oh dear, I can hear them now:

"I don't know what to do with that fly-away disaster of hers. Any suggestions?"
"She'd look good with a short pixie cut."
"Great idea. I'll surprise her."
"She loves surprises."
"'Cuz she's not at all fussy about her hair."
"Hahhhaaaahhhhhhaaaaaaaahhhhaaaaa-larious."
"I'll surprise her, too, then, and dye her hair red for the holidays."
"Well, don't leave me out of the fun. I think I'll wax off one eyebrow, just because I can."
"Merry Christmas, little SJG."
"Have fun in France."
"Bon voyage!"

I don't remember signing off on this look.