Day 3

Being blonde has done something to me. I think that either it’s given me more confidence, or people like blondes better. I’ve been getting more attention. In Target, this cute guy did a double take. I checked to make sure there was nothing on my face or toilet paper on my shoe and my underwear was not hanging out of my Levis. I went to the art supply store and I got hit on. I went to the bank to deposit a check at the ATM and a guy in a fedora unabashedly gave me the once over.

And then I got home and realized I was wearing a black bra with a white shirt.

Just kidding. I think it may have been my lip-gloss, but chances are it’s the BLONDE.

Me and my bestie C went to Happy Endings and apparently, the male clientele was scoping us out. Then we drank too much and ate nachos. Hot.

Now, it may seem like this blonde-ness has brought nothing but random male attention, but it has brought me confidence and energy. I’ve been working out everyday and eating salad. I never eat salad and now that I do, I feel like a different person. Could hair color really affect my life this much? Or was this change destined to happen without the BLONDE push?

I give today 3 Barbie Warhols:

Day 2

I slept in today. It was awesome. I thought being blonde was a dream and it was refreshing to wake up and have it be true.

I did the least glamorous activity today – I cleaned my apartment. Then I went to my eyebrow appointment. I arrived early and decided to stop by the Magnolia Bakery. It was like heaven. Cupcakes, cheesecakes, cookies, coffee, cakes… It was HEAVEN. I bought a mini cheesecake and two peanut butter cookies. It will take every once of will power I have not to consume them immediately.

I then went to my brow appointment at Benefit. Their store is so cute and they are all so nice. I was talked in to getting a lash tint along with the brow wax & tint. So, I’m sitting there blind as a bat with my eyes sealed shut with lash tint. It was bizarre. I felt kind of vulnerable. But whatever. They were really busy; people were coming in and all I could hear were their voices and the noise from 3^rd Street. It awakened my senses in an oddly visceral way. It’s difficult to describe, but it makes me wonder if I should do sensory deprivation on a regular basis to help me feel this way again. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

I made my way home and encountered a bit of traffic because they are filming the new “Wonder Woman” TV show in Hollywood. It would happen to be a brunette causing problems for a blonde, wouldn’t it? I can’t really hate on Wonder Woman, though. She’s essentially a Victoria’s Secret model with cool bracelets, a lame lasso, and an invisible jet. She was born into a superhero world dominated by men; of course they can’t give here cool powers like healing or flying. It’s hard for a girl to get ahead in this world, especially when she’s not blonde.

Today gets 3 Barbie Warhols:

Day 1

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Okay, so not really. Today was just another day, but BLONDER. I woke up and drove to the Aveda Institute Los Angeles. While I was nervous about students doing my hair, I figured it's only hair and why not let my blonde experiment be someone else's learning experience? (And you can't beat the service at their prices) I figured, worst-case scenario, I’ll shave my head and rename this “my bald year,” If Natalie Portman can do it, so can I (I tend to apply this rule irrationally to everything – attending Yale, winning an Oscar, being in a movie with Jean Reno, rapping about stuff on SNL… I can’t do those things because I’m not Natalie Portman).

So I walk in and they tell me I can’t be a platinum blonde in one day and they suggest highlights. I say no, I want all over blonde (anyone can get some half-assed highlights – I’m going balls-deep blonde, bitches). So they paint my hair with the bleach stuff and we chit chat about all things BLONDE. They seem intrigued by my commitment to a year of blonde. They finish and I have to sit for 30 minutes. I watch my hair become orange. It’s pretty frightening.

Then, they lather, rinse, repeat. I get bleached again. This time I watch my hair go from orange to yellow. I figure there’s no going back now, so I tell that weird feeling in my stomach to fuck off. Lather, rinse, repeat. They don’t bleach my hair this time, they put actual color on to even it out and make it uniform. I get rinsed and trimmed and styled and blow dried… and I’m blonde. Blonder that the picture, but I’ve taken about 80 pictures and none of them seem to appropriately capture the level of blonde. But trust me, I’m blonde. I may go to more dangerous depths of blonde in the future, but for now, the professionals would only allow me to do so much. I have a feeling I’ll soon be screaming “PLATINUM OR BUST!” (pun intended? Get it – blondes with big boobs? No? okay…)

Do you know how much my salon visit cost? Granted, it was my first time at Aveda, so I got a discount or something, but it was roughly $89. For all that. I was like, WHAT?! I almost kissed the woman behind the cash register.

I leave the salon and as I’m crossing the street – I get a whistle. I look around and I’m the only person crossing the street. I turn around to see a bum whistling at me from the bench across the street. I smile politely and move on. First whistle as a blonde! Thanks, man!

I’m then driving down Wilshire and I get a call about a job. What what!!!? Then, I’m starving since I’ve been sitting in the basement of Aveda for 5 hours, so I say fuck it and get some In-n-Out. Not only is this In-n-Out normally a mess at 5pm, it’s usually a clusterfuck at the entrance and exits. I pull in to the lot without problem, there is no line for the drive-thru, and upon my exit, a dude in a Porsche signals to me that I can turn left in front of him – and he’s right no one’s coming (I’m not dumb enough yet to blindly trust a stranger’s traffic signals). I hit a little traffic a block from my house, but I have French fries, so who cares?

Needless to say, so far being blonde is pretty freaking great. I have a smile on my face that looks like I’m the Cheshire cat. I give to day 4 Barbie Warhols:

Day 0

Monday, March 28, 2011 – Day 0

It’s my last day as a red head. I took an IQ test and my IQ is 147 (no, really – I’m wicked smart – although it was an internet IQ test, so how accurate could it be?). I’ll have to take the same test again after I’m blonde. The second that shit hits my scalp I’m going to get dumber, right?

How do people say goodbye to part of themselves? My red hair has been with me through it all: good times, bad times, times I can’t remember… I think when people describe me to other people (at least in my mind) they seem to always mention my hair. I also imagine them describing me as a “sassy redhead” or a “Lucille Ball-type.” This, I’m sure, is only in my mind. How can a purely physical aspect of my existence have such bearing on my personal perception of my personality(say that 5 times fast)? Being blonde can change all that. I can distance myself from… myself. I can try to disconnect my outward appearance with my inner personality.

Also, I think it could be like being an undercover spy in everyday life.

I’m also going to keep a running tally of carpet/curtain jokes.

My Blonde Introduction

I don’t know why, as women, we tend to connect so strongly with our hair. I always know when I need a life change when I want to do something drastic with my hair. It’s usually chopping it off, but every once in a while, I want to go black. Or blonde. Or pink. I think my hair is how I deal with my internal turmoil in an external way. Perhaps it’s because it’s something that we can supposedly control (although, the way I can get bed head, I’m not sure that this is entirely true). Your hair can completely change the way you look. In every movie that includes a makeover sequence, the hair is always top of the to-do list (except for Pretty Woman when she tries on all the clothes, but you already got the “surprise!” hair moment when she takes off her blonde bob wig to reveal the saucy red wild-haired woman the morning after she gets down with Mr. Edward Lewis). Here are a few all the examples I can think of:

Movies:

- Roman Holiday (1953), Sabrina (1954) & Sabrina (1995) – Audrey Hepburn (and Julia Ormond) cut their hair and as a sign of maturity and suddenly Gregory Peck and William Holden (and Greg Kinnear) pay attention to her.

- Vertigo (1958) – Jimmy Stewart becomes obsessed with the dead Madeleine (Kim Novak) and makes over her doppelganger Judy (also Kim Novak, duh) to look just like her – including a new blonde ‘do.

- Grease (1978) – In the pivotal scene in the finale, Sandy (Olivia Newton-John) struts up in her skin-tight black ensemble with high heels – her sexy new look – which also involves a teased curly mop of hair – and gets Danny (John Travolta) in a voice-cracking tizzy. They then bust out “You’re the One That I Want” and cruise into the upper atmosphere.

- Breakfast Club (1985) – Claire (Molly Ringwald) gives Allison (Ally Sheedy) a five-minute makeover. She has less eye makeup and the hair is out of her face with a headband.

- The Fugitive (1993) – Dr. Richard Kimble (Harrison Ford) dyes his hair dark and shaves his beard and no one recognizes him as the man on the wanted posters.

- Clueless (1995) – “Cher’s main thrill in life is a makeover; it gives her a sense of control in a world full of chaos.” Di (Stacey Dash) and Cher (Alicia Silverstone) rinse the Kool-Aid red color out of Tai’s (Brittany Murphy) hair and give her a head-to-toe makeover.

- She’s All That (1999) – When Zack (Freddie Prinze, Jr.) makes a bet that he can turn Laney (Rachael Leigh Cook), the school ugly duckling, into the prom queen, he enlists his sister (Anna Paquin) to give her a makeover. It’s a simple makeover that involves taking off her glasses, letting her hair down, and showing some cleavage.

- Jawbreaker (1999) – When she uncovers a birthday prank goes awry, geek Fern Mayo (Judy Greer) gets a makeover from Courtney (Rose McGowan) and Marcie (Julie Benz) to keep quiet. Little do they know they created more than they can handle when Fern becomes “Vylette.”

- Miss Congeniality (2000) – When FBI agent Gracie Hart (Sandra Bullock) has to go undercover at a beauty pageant, she gets a makeover from Victor Melling (Michael Caine). They flat-iron her hair, wax her, and put her in some tight dresses. It’s hot.

- Princess Diaries (2001) – Mia (Anna Hathaway) discovers that she’s a princess when the Queen of Genovia (Julie Andrews) reveals that her father was a prince. She gets a makeover – new clothes, they straighten her frizzy hair, pluck her Groucho eyebrows, and give her some lipgloss and eyeshadow.

- V for Vendetta (2006) – V (Hugo Weaving) shaves Evey’s (Natalie Portman) head in an effort to make her an ally. Her shaved head signifies her rebirth. (Hello Makeover!)

- The House Bunny (2008) – Shelly (Anna Faris), a former Playboy Bunny becomes a sorority housemother and gives the failing ZETA girls makeovers. This includes large manes, push-up bras, heavy eye makeup, and sky-high heels. The sorority grows in popularity and everyone lives happily ever after.

Television:

- Felicity, “The List” (1999) – After a bad breakup with Ben (Scott Speedman), Felicity (Keri Russell) cuts off her luscious curly locks. Ratings plummeted.

- The Gilmore Girls, “One’s Got Class and The Other One Dyes” (2002) - Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel) helps her friend Lane (Keiko Agena) bleach and dye her hair purple in an act of rebellion. Lane freaks out, knowing that her strict Korean mother will kill her, so she and Rory dye it back to its original color. But she still has dyed hair. Rebel!

- What Not to Wear (2003 – Present) – The makeover show has been going for eight years and while the hosts (Stacy London, Clinton Kelly) mostly focus on fashion and eradicating all polyester from existence, they do have hair and makeup specialist chop and polish their contestants.

To quote the very wise Helen Shivers (Sarah Michelle Gellar) from I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), “Hey, it’s all about the hair. Don’t you forget that. Especially when you become some big hotshot lawyer. Those professional types think its all about brains and ability and completely ignore the ‘do.” I probably reference 90’s pop culture too much to make myself relevant, but my point is (and I do have one) that I’ve been brainwashed to believe that makeovers can change your life. And that 50-75% of a makeover is changing the hair. No wonder I have irrationally manifested my identity in my hair. So, I have hypothesized that if I change my hair, I can change myself for the better. Most people will think this is silly. Some people will think this is a no-brainer. But, I’m not “most people.” I’m not “some people.” I'm me and I am the master of my own hair destiny.

So… Why blonde?

I’m a natural redhead. Stop. RIGHT THERE. There will be no jokes about firecrotches, carpet and curtain coordination, or ... whatever else you’re thinking.

Just kidding. There will be all of that and blonde jokes. Probably more than you could ever want.

I’ve been toying with the idea of dyeing my hair blonde for quite sometime. I believe that during the summer of 2003 I even had highlights, but I’ve always been red. Occasionally I would color my hair to make it even redder. It was a part of identity. My mother always claimed that when she named me Maureen that she hoped I’d be a redhead, like Maureen O’Hara. My family has red hair (except for my dad, who doesn’t really have hair, and as far as I’m concerned, never did). We’ve got strawberry blondes, coppertops and classic auburns. I’m already kind of the black sheep of the family insofar as: a) I have moved the farthest away. b) I chose an artistic, unstable career. c) I earn a meager salary. d) I visit my parents the least. So, why not differentiate myself further with a dramatic hair change? Also, I know that it will probably drive my mother crazy, and I think that is every daughter’s goal in life, right?

I am going blonde because I would like to know, like really know, if blondes do have more fun. I guess this is dependent on my predetermined definition of “fun” and how I plan to quantify said “fun.” I'm going to rate my experiences on a scale of 1 to 5 blonde warhols. One means today sucks, and five means I can't remember(because it was so awesome).

I also plan to attempt to debunk the "dumb blonde" myth. Granted, one could argue that I'm not a natural blonde, so these rules do not apply to me. Although I believe that does make sense, my external hair color should not influence my internal though, I also believe in the power of perception. If I perceive myself as a "dumb blonde," is that what I am - a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy? Only time will tell...