Justaines: Lather, rinse, repeat

One of the many things I love about Hillary Clinton (and please realize that the list is long and impressive and substantial before we even get to this one thing) is her hair. Yes, her hair. It's not that she has don't-hate-me-because-I'm-beautiful hair, per se. It's because she has real hair. You never know exactly what you're going to get. Girlfriend is like us. Some days her hair is all, "Get it, girl!" and other days her hair is all, "Girl, no." It's just so endearing it makes me want to hug her and talk about health care reform.

Now I realize the inherent pitfalls in talking about such an accomplished woman's hair. No one talks about President Obama's hair (it's lovely and the salt and pepper only make it more so) or John McCain's lack of hair (it's less lovely, considerably so). This discussion of hair is in no way a requisite when discussing women. I loathe how women's bodies and dress are more critiqued than men's, as much as I loathe myself for sometimes falling into the same sorry gender traps. This discussion isn't meant as a substitute for something substantive. And my lack of discussion of men's appearance on these pages can largely be attributed to my lack of discussion of men on these pages, period. I talk about the ladies, that's what I do.

So, now that all that's been said, seriously – the hair. Some days it's sleek and fabulous. Some days it's poofy and helmety. Other days it's flat and exhausted. It's hair, like our hair. Good hair days, bad hair days. It's not perfect, it's real. I love that. I also love that for the most part, except for idiots like me who insist on pointing it out, folks don't care. That's how it should be. That women and men are equal should be unquestioned. That women and men are different is also simply a fact. We can celebrate our differences while not belittling our unequivocal isonomy.

And with that, how about a look at our most distinguished Madame Secretary's hair. Why? Because I love her and her hair and the fucking fantastic brain that sits underneath it all. Also, honey, what's happening in that fourth picture? Girl, no.

Go ahead, underestimate me, sucker.