I want those long, flowing locks. I want to wear hippy chick clothing.
But more than anything, I want my inner Aretha---and trust me, really, she's there---to gush out in such a fantastic soulful and rockin' way.
My inner Aretha comes out more like drunken belting Karaoke and what can loosely be called dancing, somewhere between Bridget Jones and Ally McBeal. The best that can be said is that I do it with much gusto.
Maybe next life.
In the meantime, I buy her CDs and feel the funk flow through me...at least when I am alone in the car.
By Julie Pippert
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