I thoroughly enjoyed Punk Attitude, a documentary I saw on the Independent Film Channel.

It featured many of my favorite musicians, cast light on one of my favorite periods of history, and highlighted the delightfully rebellious spirit of all things punk.

Henry Rollins provided a great deal of the commentary, including a description of the posers who came along later, with their theatrical Mohawks and safety pins through their cheeks. No real punk musicians actually pierced themselves with safety pins; they used them to hold their clothes together because they were poor as dirt.

I particularly liked that discussion, because I am the opposite of those imposters: I am brimming with the antiestablishment fervor of punk, but I look like the girl next door. I'm not wearing the costume of rebellion, but I burn with the fire of resistance. For instance, as I remarked to Sarah the Butterfly, all of the media hype about obesity and images of rail-thin models thrust down our throats does nothing but make me want to get fat and wear a tube top with spandex shorts.

Lucky for us all, I do have my own health to consider; otherwise I would do it just to be difficult. Actually, I think it comes from my early childhood dreams. I wanted to be a journalist, and journalists have this unofficial slogan: "Comfort the Afflicted and Afflict the Comfortable." I'm not saying they live up to this credo, but it's a thought.

I do not take well to authority, and my emergence from under the thumb of my abusive first husband has only heightened my resolve to fight the power. I love punk rock, and no matter what I look like or how old I get, I will always be hard-core punk.

By the way: can anyone identify this picture? I'm sure at least one of you can.