Little girl lost

The thing is, I’ve always wanted to shave my head. It’s true. Some wild, unexpressed part of my personality wonders what I’d look like bald. Part of it is rebellion. But part of it is that my hair is a large part of my identity. It’s long. It’s thick. Strangers have been know to ask to touch it while I’m out and about. Yeah, I know, that last bit is weird. But in the end, I’ve never shaved my head and probably never will. Thing is, I like my hair. I like myself. And, OK, I worry that I might have a misshapen scalp or weird birthmark hiding under there.

This lengthy and unsolicited mediation on my hair brings me to my point. Britney Spears and her newly-shaved head makes me sad. While I understand the urge, her very public shearing seems to be both an act of rebellion and a shedding of identity. I try not to blog too much about the paparazzi princesses - Paris, Lindsay, Britney, Nicole, et al. I do so mainly because I think they’re uninteresting and unimportant. I find no joy in yet another shot of some sad person drunk/naked/covered in her own sick.

But Britney’s recent downward spiral complete with photos and video and her clipped locks for sale on eBay screams out for commentary. And mine is this: People who love Britney Spears, please help her. While I’ve never met the woman and am in no way privy to the inner workings of her soul, I can tell you that shaving your head in some little salon in Tarzana in full view of the cameras is a probably cry for help. So, someone, help her.