Being blonde

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Being blonde

I’m always jealous of those people who change their hair colour as often as they change clothes. While I’m happy to try every mascara, eyeshadow, lip gloss or foundation out there, I have always shied away from changing my hair. It’s been blonde since I was born – with a little help from the bottle as I get older. Mind you, it has teetered on the edge of orange, thanks to an over-enthusiastic hairdresser in Brazil (never again will I get my hair done in a country where I don’t speak the language and “blonde” translates into something I can’t mention here).

Friends who’ve made the transition from one colour to another altogether can’t believe the difference –  not just in their appearance, but also in how they’re treated on the street. The brunette instantly becomes smart and mysterious, the blonde a little bit on the ditzy side, and the red head? She must have anger management issues because doesn’t every red head have a bad temper?

It’s baffling why society has pigeonholed people into these categories, just because of a hair colour. But even I admit that for a while I wondered if I would be treated any differently if I went darker. Last month, I decided to make the leap. Announcing this to my hairdresser was even scarier than the idea itself. She kind of backed away from my chair and squeaked, “Are you absolutely, 100 per cent certain?” The poor girl has spent hours re-dying my hair when I’ve flipped out after going even one shade darker.

After much deliberating (and refusal/pleading from my hairdresser), I decided to stay blonde. I think it’s about time we put the labels away and just accept each other as is. After all, we are unique individuals, so why should we fall into any one stereotype? I say embrace the colour you have, whatever it may be. And besides that, I’ve now learnt how to say “blonde” in Portuguese…

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