Jamie Lee Curtis For President!

Now that I have your attention, I’ll tell you why I’m nominating Jamie Lee.

Several years ago, Jamie Lee Curtis decided to age gracefully and to free American women from the futility of aspiring to the unrealistic airbrushed depiction of female beauty trumpeted by Hollywood and Madison Avenue. In a More magazine article, she revealed what she had to go through—cosmetic surgery, for one thing—to be and to remain “glamorous.” To drive her message home, she insisted that she would only pose for photos as “Glam Jamie Lee” in the pages of More if the magazine also published a photo of the real Jamie Lee without makeup and in plain underwear only—no push up bra, no Spanx and no airbrushing away the imperfections. The publishers of More agreed to her terms, and Jamie Lee Curtis did what no film star before her dared to do. She let the world see the unvarnished Jamie Lee Curtis. The middle-aged Jamie Lee Curtis. The real Jamie Lee Curtis.

Wow. That photo spread could have ended her career in Hollywood and she knew it. Tell me that didn’t take guts. Believe it or not, she didn’t stop there. Next, Jamie Lee stopped dying her hair and allowed it to gray naturally. Deciding to age gracefully was a gamble for a movie star but it paid off. Jamie Lee single-handedly rallied a generation of middle-aged American women to thumb their noses at Madison Avenue’s advertising scare tactics.  More was inundated with letters from women who stopped dying their hair and thanked Jamie Lee for telling it like it is and for giving them the courage to be themselves.

Because of her daring, she became every middle-aged woman’s champion. Because of her honesty, she became every middle-aged woman’s inspiration. Because of her caring, she became every middle-aged woman’s best friend. And her popularity soared. Take that, Hollywood. Read it and weep, Madison Avenue.

I so wish that article had appeared before I found my first gray hair, because back before the Jamie Lee Curtis revolution, I was still under the impression that my youth and my life would be over once I turned gray. Dark brown hair (in which a single gray hair shines like a lighthouse beacon) runs in my family. Prematurely gray hair runs in my husband’s family. For him, finding that first gray hair at twenty was an amusing “What the hell is that doing there?” moment. For me, finding my first gray hair at thirty-two was a traumatic “No! No! Oh, God, no!” moment followed by copious weeping.

A couple of years ago, I mustered enough courage to join Jamie Lee’s revolution. I stopped dyeing my hair, and I actually like my natural look better. It’s the real me. Surprisingly enough, I receive more compliments on my hair now than I did when I dyed it. One of these days, I’ll get around to having another professional portrait done, and I’ll replace the website’s photo of the “Glam Jolana.” (You’re laughing. I can hear you. Stop it!)

I think Jamie Lee Curtis deserves a medal for sparing future generations of women from enduring the same trauma I did. She understands what it means to be a woman as only another woman can. I’m betting she would make women’s issues a priority of her administration if she were elected.

So, I repeat: Jamie Lee Curtis for President! 🙂