Blonde.

1981

I wasn't born blonde.  I was born with thick, almost black hair, and at 9lbs, 12oz.,  my mother said I looked like a sumo wrestler.  I was chunky and I was hers.  She said:  "You were all mine."

My hair fell out in patches when I was a toddler, revealing a light brown color that would lighten in the sun.  That was the color of my hair.  You can see it in the pictures.  I was born with dark hair.  The light, sun-streaked color changed to a decided brown.  Just plain brown.  

2012

Yet, born one or not, I don't know how to be a brunette.   don't know how to have brown hair.  I have been a blonde for so long.  I have been blonde since I was 14.  I was a bottle "born blonde" when my mom realized I was not only self-conscious about my looks, I had good reason to be.  Yeah, mom?  I was gawky and ugly.  I was a cute kid, then I grew tall and skinny, with big feet and a big nose and a long, thin face.  My brown hair, featuring bangs framing my face, which hung straight as a stick, was no longer going to be acceptable.  My natural hair wasn't flattering to my natural face.  My natural hair wasn't flattering to my natural being.  I was a blonde.  I had to rise to something greater than a mousy brunette, or I was going to disappear.

I didn't disappear.  I grew into my body and face.  My hair was blonde.  My skin was tan.  I wore padded bras and short skirts.  My mom taught me how to be 'beautiful.'  Boobs, hair, and brains.  I still had brains, even if I didn't act like I did sometimes.  Body and mind.

There's a persona that is filled in with blonde hair and boobs.  I can cook too.  I'll bake you a pie.

2013.  Look at that cleavage and hair.

My hair is brown, now. I'm lost... I've been lost for years, now, but I don't know how to be exteriorly so altered, it seems, even though my mind is so often lost.  I don't think men will ever understand that.  They don't change as much as women can and do in so little time.  If a man shaves off his hair, it's not a big deal.  He looks the same with shaved hair.  If a woman is suddenly bald, she isn't the same.  She isn't so sexy.  Don't lie.  Don't pretend she is.  If her breasts shrivel up and shrink to nothing, we aren't so hot, are we?  Luckily plastic surgery can right the wrongs that time and motherhood wage against us.  If we stop working out our asses, we're just flabby, yeah?  We should cover that up.  If we gain a little weight, we've got muffin top, yeah?  

1984.  Long brown hair.

I've heard so many women lament last years' beach body, and explain why they must wear a one-piece this year,  not a bikini last year.  "I just wasn't ready for summer."  "I was sick, I had a long injury and couldn't keep in shape like I wanted to." A mom told me that on the beach, this past week.  As if she needed to explain a tankini.  She said, "I figure I can move it so I can get tan.  Fat looks better tan."  What?  The next day my friend, who said she wasn't ready for summer, and who said her stomach was fat, wore a bikini all day.  She looked beautiful.  I knew my thighs were fatter this year.

Maybe I knew.  I was trying 'it' on before Kindergarten.  

I don't have any pictures of me on the beach from this year...  No, I think there are some, but I won't show anyone, though.  My thighs are fatter.  My hair is brown. I knew I couldn't act the same, or carry myself with the same confidence.  Shame on me for not doing enough pilates, and for being a crazy lady who decides to try to save money and do my own hair color.  (Don't do it, if you want to look pretty).  You can't be blonde from a box, at home.  It just doesn't work out.  Shell it out.

 I have brown hair, and I know I can't handle it.  Long blonde hair isn't the same as dull, mid-length brown hair.  I have tried to pretend to be a brunette for months, now, because people said, "I like it," but I don't like it.  I know what the public wants, baby.  I know.  Breasts, and blonde hair, and fucking confidence.  Stand up straight.  Suck it in and pretend you think you're hot stuff.  You better feel beautiful, or you aren't at all.