Hairdressers don’t just make you beautiful. Hairdressers are best friends and keepers of secrets. If Hitler had been a hairdresser, there wouldn’t have a Holocaust. Instead, he would’ve floofed those little Jewish dreadlocks and told them to go be gorgeous among their tribe.

As you’ve probably noticed on my Bravo show Blow Out, hair stylists are loyal. The way you feel about yourself on a given day comes from how you feel about your hair. Hair is that powerful. And the way you feel about your hair is the way that I feel about your hair. Once, after I cut and styled a fabulous woman’s locks, she started to cry. “I feel beautiful,” she said. They were tears of joy, and soon we were both crying and I knew then that I wanted us both to have that feeling every single day of our lives. (She looked like a retarded Mexican cabana boy before she came to me. No thanks, Super Hair!)

That is why I invented the Jonathan Product line, available at a high-class salon near you.

And that beautiful woman, the one who sobbed at the miracles that these hands can create, has been my client ever since. That is why it hurts me and all stylists everywhere to see her dragged through the mud, especially since brown so isn’t her color. Her name is Carolyn Hughes, and she is my friend.

Carolyn covers the Dodgers (that’s a baseball team) for a channel here in LA, and earlier this year she had the most beautiful thing happen to her: she fell in love. I remember the day she first told me about her new beau — she wanted special auburn highlights so that her whole ginormous head would glow like a disco ball. She said that the man was a famous athlete who was new to the city. She could hardly contain her excitement, and everyone at the salon was just delighted for her.

Now their precious love has been soiled by the gossip rags. The bond that she and Derek share is being denigrated by people who don’t even know them, and everyone’s making a big stink just because he’s married, has three kids and is abandoning them. That’s not Carolyn’s fault! And if that Trinka Lowe (what is she, an off-night South Central stripper?) didn’t want her man to get Jolie’d, then she shouldn’t go around trying to look like a truck-stop Jennifer Aniston!

I don’t mean to disrespect Trinka because we all know what it feels like to get cheated on, but with a look like that, you’re only cheating yourself, girl. And Trinka, if you decide you want to get back out there, I’ll fix you up gratis. I’ll even pay for the liposuction. (I’m a sucker for charity cases.)

In closing, I’d like to politely ask the press to lay off my girl Carolyn and her hunka-hunka-burning-Lowe (what Cal and I called him even though he resembles Frankenstein with half the brains and 1/10th the looks). Don’t forget: I know who does your hair.

Jonathan Antin was inspired to become a hairdresser by Warren Beatty’s character in Shampoo