Growing up in the south, big beautiful hair was always the goal. I remember countless mornings before school when my mom would patiently brush my hair, tease my bangs, and help me pick out the bow to clip on my head before sending me on my way. I remember late nights when I would watch my grandmother carefully secure each individual pin curl by hand, making sure each bobby pin was carefully crossed tight before placing her hair net on and going to bed. When rain would arrive unannounced, all the women in my church would gather under the awning like squawking geese while the men went to retrieve the cars because southern women will not suffer the fate of damp and lifeless hair. Growing up in the south, if big beautiful hair was the goal- big beautiful blonde hair was the ultimate goal.
The closer you looked to a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, the better.
I knew girls that began getting blonde highlights in their hair as young as twelve years old. Where I came from, this was completely normal. Your first attempt to become a blonde was almost a right of passage. After all, what little girl wouldn't want a pampering trip to the beauty salon resulting in a shiny blonde ponytail swinging on the playground?
Alas, I inherited my father's extremely dark brownalmostblack hair. I quickly decided to bury my feelings of inadequacy and campaign that brunettes are beautiful and can have fun too. Even when my sister and beauty inspiration went blonde, I held my ground. When girls said Cinderella, I said Snow White. They would say Betty, I would say Veronica. Who could have predicted that this brunette purist would become the blondest of them all, Marilyn Monroe.
Okay, okay, I know I'm not REALLY Marilyn Monroe; and don't worry, my hair is still dark. I can't lie though, I love playing the blonde bombshell. I feel like the attention that I get as a blonde is completely different than the attention I get as a brunette. Granted, I'm dressed like Marilyn Monroe, and I'm sure that has a little something to do with it. ;)
Still, people flirting with Marilyn is light and playful, while people flirting with Grace is heavy and predatory. Blonde is playful, brunette is serious. Blonde is attracting attention, brunette is laying low.
I'm painting with broad strokes here, but I can say that the difference is staggering.
Perhaps I notice the differential even more since I switch back and forth from blonde to brunette with just a few wig pins, but I can definitely say THERE IS A DIFFERENCE. Maybe this difference is a self fulfilling prophecy more than anything else- brought on by years of feeling like I was about 7 shades away from the southern beauty ideal.
Then I remember that Marilyn herself was (really) a brunette. I wonder if Norma Jean felt the same transformation bleaching her brown locks that I feel when I slip on the blonde almost white wig. As a brunette, Norma Jean was nothing more than a pretty chorus girl. As a blonde, she became a striking beauty no one could tear their eyes from.
The blonde hair catapulted her to the center of the spotlight. Her bright blonde hair drew the eye like sparkling diamonds she would later sing about.
Fellow brunette ladies, I dare you to buy a blonde wig and see the difference for yourself.
No wonder blondes have more fun, the world is more fun around them!