A few weeks ago I was inside a dressing room in Anthropologie when I overheard two girls (uh...I mean, women), talking in the room next door.

"...I know, I feel so much more empowered now!"

My ears perked up. What made her feel empowered? A facial? New sandals? Quitting her job (uh...no, that would be me)?...Tell me! Tell me! I want to feel empowered, too!

"I used to be all about blonde highlights," said the other girl. "But now, I love being a brunette."

Hair color?! An odd cocktail mixture of feelings surfaced inside of me that included jealousy and condescension (if that can be described as a feeling). On one hand I was repulsed that hair color could be linked with the word "empowered." UNLIKE ME, clearly these are not evolved feminists, I thought. But then, this woman's comments had tapped into my secret desire to pour a $15 bottle of Clairol over my hair and be done with the pricey highlight upkeep that I'm not even sure matches my skin coloring or my soul. I used to be a brunette before I started going grey and my Persian hair stylist, Shane, talked me into getting the highlights. I swore I would never go blonde, and while I technically haven't, I'm feeling a little slippery with these blond whisps hanging around. I hate to be so judgemental towards my Inner Blond Bimbo, because just like my Inner Child and Inner Big Black Woman, she needs love, too. But I have to say, there's something unnerving about light hair that's not supposed to be light.

I told my eyebrow lady about it and she recommended that I wait until the Fall...but it's only a matter of time.

Just for today, I'm inching away from my highlights.

I remember back in 2003 when Friendster was all the rage and people had like 100 friends (back then that was considered a lot). MySpace was still renegade country, filled with alternative bands and creepy guys living in their parent's basement. But soon MySpace began to gain strength and energy. The Friendsters tried to hold out thinking, "I spent all this time accumulating Friendsters and now I have to do it again on MySpace?! No, thanks, I'll make my Friendster page cool by sheer will." But, alas, the winds of fashion sucked all the hipness of Friendster out until it was a ghost town of a once vibrant cyber-community. The Friendster administrators decided to refrain from showing the user log-in dates because it was just too depressing...

Eventually, myself and others with a sheep-like mentality (it's less lonely being part of the crowd) came around and resigned ourselves to starting over again on MySpace (I had already been invited a dozen times). With a little less passion, but the same sense of duty, I've started connecting with old friends (from Friendster and other pit-stops in my life). After all, like a summer fling, MySpace won't last forever. What makes the Internet exciting is exactly the lack of control we have over it. Especially when it's not really "my" space, but that of a big ole corporate machine...

Just for today, I can hang out on MySpace.

My friend is having an 80's themed dance party for her birthday next week, and just for occasion, I asked my mom to mail me my poofy gold and black Cyndi Lauper-style skirt from the 11th grade.

I remember my mom picking it out at the store, and lecturing me on learning to make fashion statements, and then me thinking, "you've gotta be crazy to think I'm going to pull that off." Somehow, I wore it to a couple of formal dances, and then it sat in the closet in my mom's house for 19 years, waiting patiently, for the 80's to become retro-chic.

Well, that day has come. And, now, the things I wear (slutty salsa dress) puts poofy Cindy Lauper dress to shame.

Just for today, I am feeling old.