As I’m about to cross the 100-day mark, I can’t believe how much my life has changed since March. Can I actually BLAME IT ON THE BLONE™? I should think that the course of my life doesn’t have anything to do with my hair color, but sometimes it helps to manifest these things physically. I would like to someday refer to my “blonde period” just like Picasso had his “blue period.” Is that conceited? I think this is just an observation, not necessarily a proclamation comparing myself to Picasso (just to be clear).
My job has grown and changed and become even crazier than before. I have a lot of responsibilities and I have to somehow manage to be everywhere at once. No wonder my body is in a constant state of rebellion – whether it’s breaking out in hives, getting pimples, binge eating, gaining weight, stomachaches, nightmares, night sweats, stiff joints… it’s like I’m a bubble boy who got out of the bubble only to discover fatty foods, allergens, germs, and then die.
My self-esteem has been through the ringer these past 99 days. From feeling fantastic, to feeling absolutely hideous, to feeling fat, pathetic, not hot to feeling athletic, hot, and spicy; it’s all a jumble and it makes me wonder if this is all part of the daily struggle of being a woman. I have to have self-affirmations (OMG, did I just type self-affirmations? WTF who am I? ) to keep myself up. It’s ridiculous and I think that our society should be ashamed of allowing us to feel this way about ourselves. I blame myself, but there is already so much of that going on that I am beginning to think that the blame cannot be completely on me for my self-loathing and self-derision. The society that made me hate my hips, stomach, and thighs; the society that made me hate my nose; the society that made me hate my laugh; the society that taught me that only conventionally attractive women are worthy of male attention; the society that taught me that not only are you defined by your gender, but you’re limited by it; the society that made me feel less than myself; the society that perpetuates a false idea of beauty with their Photoshopped images on glossy paper; the society that taught me that anything outside of “normal” should be ostracized and ridiculed. Our society is eroding before our very eyes and it seems as though there are few people who want to stop it. I don’t speak for all women, artists, or people; I can only speak for myself.
My blonde hair isn’t genuine, but the attitude and inner awakening that it has brought to the forefront of my mind is. Being blonde has made me a feminist in the best sense of the word. Blonde hair has made me realize that people do judge you based on you physical appearance, regardless of how evolved we claim to be.
My blonde hair has helped me realize that being strong it more important than being pretty. Superficial beauty is cheap and usually fades. A life well lived is bound to leave some scars. Most bad decisions and self-hatred are caused by fear and negativity. The blonde hair has drawn into sharp focus that which I have ingrained in my brain, in my soul. The society that created me is partially responsible for the Blonde being I have become – whether that’s good or bad.
Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols:
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