Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – December 22, 2004
I Wanna Be A Blonde
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – December 22, 2004 – I don’t think there are many women, who haven’t at some point in their lives thought, “Gee, I’d like to be a blonde.” I’ve been a blonde before and as far as I’m concerned, they don’t necessarily have more fun. That belief may just be urban legend at work or the public relations machine of Paris Hilton.
Regardless, I had decided that I wanted to experience life as a blonde again and the timing was perfect – or so I thought. My roots were showing, I already had some blonde streaks and I was due for a hair cut. Doesn’t this sound like a perfect alignment of the planets, or at the very least, a respectable reason to visit my hairdresser? Please bear in mind that I can colour my hair myself and have done so for years.
So if I want to be a redhead or a brunette, it’s off to the drugstore, slap a ten and change on the counter and half an hour later I’m transformed. However to be a blonde requires the expertise of a colour technician, a plastic cap through which strands of my hair are pulled and bleached, leaving a base colour with blonde highlights. Not svelte, Norwegian goddess blonde by any stretch, but fair haired Canadian blonde.
Was this too much to ask for on this blustery second day of winter? Apparently so. I arrived for my appointment, on time and in a holiday frame of mind. “I want to be a blonde”, I said. A knowing frown met my gleeful declaration of blonde intent. “No you don’t” said Ines – the custodian of my crowning glory, it will wash you out too much and make your eyes disappear”.
I know I’ve seen numerous blondes who had eyes, so I was immediately sceptical. “Yes I do”, I replied, resolute in my conviction. My hairdresser has a way of running her fingers knowingly through my tresses – fluffing it here and peering at it there, conferring quietly with a colleague and peering down at my scalp as if examining a flea under a microscope. She then looked at my reflection in the mirror and shook her head.
Two hours later I emerged from the salon, a redhead. My hair was cut short with an attitude, as was my wish, but as I trudged through the mushy snow to my car, I was devoid of any and all blonde thoughts and inclinations. By the time I got home I was so annoyed with myself that watching the Queen break dance in a leotard wouldn’t have lifted my mood. I thought about the number of times I’ve allowed other people to challenge my decisions or my wishes until I acquiesced to their agenda.
Well, no more. I’m a grown up. I know what I want. It may not be good for me. It may be counterproductive. I may regret a choice I’ve made, and at a later date, wish I’d listened to someone else’s advice, but that will be my responsibility and mine alone. I know I’ll be over this little snit by morning, but for now I’m going to indulge my annoyance a little bit longer.
I wanted to greet Santa Claus on Christmas morning as a blonde and welcome the new year with a nod of my fair head. Instead I’ll have to settle for a holiday as the elusive “blue eyed, red headed woman”. There is nothing wrong with this and it won’t lessen my enjoyment of the season in the least, but I did learn something from the experience – trust my own judgement and do not be swayed by others. This should be such a simple thing, but it’s hell on wheels to carry out on a consistent basis.
It has nothing to do with hair colour, and fortunately I’m astute enough to have deciphered this. Surprisingly I’m feeling better already. Having this little chat has put it all in perspective. If I want to change my hair colour, it’s as simple as a bit of colour in a little plastic bottle. To change my view of my life is a bit more complicated. Unfortunately that’s not quite as simple as unscrewing a bottle, but the approach is the same. Make a decision and move forward, marching to the beat of my own drum.
I guess the key to it all is to stand by your decisions. If you know what you want, then move forward. Accept the outcome of your choices, change what you can and accept what you can’t. Others have said this far more eloquently than I, but the message remains the same.