Allow me to introduce myself. My eyebrows may be the color of midnight now, but when I was little, they were as light as a yellow Labrador retriever. You could hardly see them, that’s how pale they were. Yep. If you flip through my mom’s old photo albums, you’ll see– I was blonde as a baby.
When people ask if I’m naturally blonde, I flash a picture of me as a beautiful bouncing baby with a halo of honey hair like it’s an FBI badge at an active crime scene. Like it’s proof of vaccination at the 2021 Lollapalooza. Like it’s my Walgreens rewards card and I’ve got points to redeem at the register. That’s right, folks. I’ve got the receipts.
The other day I heard my “friends” Jess and Steph gossiping about my hair, saying it “looks fake.” Well, they shut right up when I whipped out a 4×6 of a fair-haired cherub at age two, golden tendrils hanging down from under my OshKosh B’gosh bucket hat. Suck it, ladies. Hard to say I’m “not actually blonde” when I’ve literally been blonde my entire life.
I put “I was blonde as a baby” as my senior quote in the yearbook. I pay $79.00 a year for a personalized “BLNDBBY” license plate. I have an original haiku tattooed on my ribcage–
Blessed with flaxen curls
This is who I’m meant to be
Blonde as a baby
Have I used Sun-In each summer since I was three years old? Yes. Do I dye my hair every four to six weeks? Yes. Have I spent approximately 7 million dollars at various salons over the past 25 years? For sure. But I’m simply maintaining my original hue! I have no choice but to preserve what God gave me. My natural state remains what I looked like at eight months old, and that, my friends, was bona fide blonde.
Sure, some blondes don’t use dye. But they’re just slackers. Bad for our brand. I’ve put in 2,893 hours on color care this year alone. Put in the work if you want the title, sweeties. And don’t get me started on the posers who bleach their dark locks platinum without ever having a yellow-haired youth! The frauds. You’re not fooling us, guys! We can see your roots! I mean yeah, you can see mine too, but I’m exempt because of the whole “blonde baby” thing. I came out of the womb with sandy strands, which means I’m destined to have them until I leave this Earth and ascend to heaven, as all blondes do.
It doesn’t matter what color my roots are anyway. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. If you’re a true blonde, you know it isn’t really about physical appearances. It’s a lifestyle. A state of mind. A way to feel superior and hotter than your brown-tressed friends on ladies’ night. I identify as blonde because I am blonde and I’ve been blonde– since I was a baby!