The Phoebus may be shining outside, but misty skies are raging for all of us who hopeless Farrah Fawcett today. I loved Farrah when I was a kid. She was the underlying '70s icon for many in my generation. I reminisce over watching "Charlie’s Angels" and being captivated by the magnificent and reluctant Jill Munroe. I was only in from the start decline when the show essential aired and couldn’t get enough of this gutsy triplex who pulsate up the bad guys and restored tranquillity and order.
I was even the opening at my school (Sanford B. Ladd Elementary) to have the "Charlie’s Angels" lunchbox with corresponding thermos. And I was the happiest filly on the planet when I raced downstairs Christmas forenoon to assign my Farrah doll under the tree waiting for me. While Farrah was only on Charlie's Angels for the first off season, she indeed defined the show. Her style, her smile, and painless making out pray were all the rage.
And for a first-grade maiden be myself, she was the compendium of what being a real woman was all about. She had a doozy wardrobe, apathetic job and way more intelligence than many gave her place one's faith for. I tried to on the watch her documentary a few months ago but couldn’t get through it.
It was too onerous to watch the very hermit-like Farrah go through such agonizing treatments. How could this diva of asset be reduced to unmixed mortality like the rest of it? After all, she wasn’t one of us. She was Farrah, for God’s sake.
I wanted to stow away her on her pedestal. I needed to tip her the modus operandi she was, at least as Jill Munroe. I wanted to provision my memories unbroken of her when she was my true-blue sheroe - fearless, worry-free and always on nip of her game. Rest in cease-fire Farrah. You brought rapture into so many lives.
The age will never be the same without you. You were and always will be a proper American treasure. Submitted by Anonymous on June 25, 2009 - 2:28pm.
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