Boys wanted her, girls wanted to be like just her

The feathered-hair goddess who hails from Texas lost her battle with cancer on the same day as the King of Pop passed away—June 26, 2009— and she has been but a blip on the news.

The Corpus Christi native was an industry in and of herself. Every heterosexual male over the age of 40 had her swimsuit poster in their bedroom in the

70s and into the '80s. If you don't believe me, just ask one. It was a male rite of passage to own a photograph of Farrah in her Longhorn orange one piece.

Sales from that poster are estimated at upwards of $8 million. She earned more from her poster sales than from her appearances on the television show Charlie's Angels.

Farrah will always be Jill Munroe to me. I watched Charlies Angels religiously as an 8-year-old. I wanted to be an Angel, too. So I became one everyday, or at least a cherub.

I'd put on my mother's high heels, trip down the hallway, and snoop around her bedroom and unearth many mysteries.

Once I found a pair of silky, satiny undergarments that were nothing like I had ever seen on my mother so naturally I assumed this was a sign from Charlie himself, a red flag, so to speak.

When I tried to explain to my parents that Sabrina and Kelly's lives were on the line if I didn't find out who owned the beautiful expensive red undergarments, they both sent me to my room without the high heels.

Even though I was barefoot

knew there was a way I could karate chop my way out of my circumstances. And with the fate of detective best friends in my hands I crawled out of my bedroom and went in search of Bosley.

I found him in the kitchen eating as usual.

"Has Charlie called?" I would ask my brother.

"What are you talking about, dummy? Get up off the floor before Mom and Dad find you."

I reasoned, he was being watched, because he used my code name "Dummy." When things got hairy in the house was when Bosely used my code name. He spouted it off hourly so my life was filled with adventure.

Since we didn't have a speakerphone, Charlie would reach me via telephone. I'd pick up the banana yellow telephone in the kitchen and Charlie would buzz in my ear. "Charlie has an assignment for me and he said that it needs a feminine touch,"

would say to no one in particular.

Outside I'd go to tackle another adventure, sometimes with high heels but most of the times without them because mom would make me leave her shoes in her closet.

And it was always Jill I wanted to be even though in real life I was more the take charge Sabrina type. Jill had the nylon flicked hair and the best outfits on the show. And even though my tornado-like curly hair would never flip away from my face like Jill's did, it was large and so I could pretend to be Farrah Fawcett.

I could pretend I had rich girl hair, as mom's Cosmopolitan's magazine described it. My fellow Texan inspired me to be a funny girl, sexy detective and inspired me to dream big.

I recently watched the opening credits of the first episode and saw Sabrina horse-back riding, Jill playing tennis and Kelly swimming. It was like watching a feminine hygiene commercial. It wasn't until that moment I realized how influential the Angels were and have been to our pop culture.

My only regret is not taking better care of my Farrah Fawcett doll. When Farrah unexpectedly left the show, my interest in the Angels stopped. I tried to team Jill up with my brother's Stretch Armstrong and for a while they had their own detective agency, until the German Shepard next door mauled Stretch to pieces.

My Jill doll quietly took a back seat to the Bionic Woman but amazingly enough her synthic hair kept it's feathered coif just like Farrah did her entire life. I'm going to miss her and her locks.

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2009-07-02 digital edition

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