Day 11

I’m not sure what has happened in my life - other than being blonde - that could have brought about such a change in me. I’m not sure if people like me because they’ve just met me (and therefore haven’t grown tired of me), or if they actually do like me. The old me would have assumed that they are being polite and that’s all. But the new me thinks that it’s not necessarily like that.

Generally, people like to be liked, but for me, I never wanted to admit that to myself. Blending in was important, or being popular was the high priority. Occasionally getting good grades or whatever would become important, but really only to please my parents. It was all about pleasing other people. It was only when I was true to myself that people started to ridicule me, but I felt better about myself on the inside. It was as if the negative influences on my self-worth could either be internal or external, but never both. However, after years of being conditioned this way, I mutated and both negative influences could happen simultaneously. Obviously, not the greatest of situations, especially for my confidence, etc.

I stumbled on to a letter written by Ray Bradbury (see above) over on www.howtobearetronaut.com . It rustled up some of these feelings of inadequacy, but not in the usual manner in which they would make me feel bad. When these feelings stirred within me, it was as if I was finally aware of their existence. Everyone has doubts; a little is healthy, a lot is not.

Perhaps I feel more well liked because I am? I’m probably a little more open, smile a little easier, and laugh a little harder. But, I’m also blonde. Could people like me more as a blonde?

Finding that Ray Bradbury letter is a little odd for me. It was only a couple weeks ago that I drank my first glass of dandelion wine; I could not help but think about his book. It was a book of vignettes about small town life and distilling the magic of summer into a bottle of dandelion wine. I have always wished that I could do that with certain aspects of my life. I would like to bottle my nostalgia, can my confidence, and make a compote from my joie-de-vive. I would like to drink in those summer days of my childhood when we would play for hours outside in the sunshine. I could have a solid helping of confidence whenever I desire. I could brighten my day with a bite of free-spirited fun.

I hate to admit that being well liked makes me feel great. I don’t want to think that other people affect my happiness, but perhaps people like me because I like me. When you like you, how could anyone not like you?

Being blonde has made me see myself differently and it’s been less than 2 weeks. Perhaps I should have gone blonde a long time ago.

I rate today with 4 Barbie Warhols: