Blonde ambition

On behalf of all brunettes, I’d like to say that we are sick of being misjudged by the color of our hair.

I understand the plight of the blonde, constantly slighted by “dumb” jokes.

Actually, I don’t understand it, but I know such hardships exist for the fairer-haired.

Now from the other side of the scalp.

I’ve really tried to keep my mouth shut for the last going-on-24 years, but two nights ago, I decided I had shook my head full of short brown hair for the last time.

The boyfriend and I ran into an acquaintance at the gym who was with a woman whom we didn’t know.

I remarked that I was a little upset this acquaintance seemed so chummy with said woman, seeing as how the acquaintance used to date one of my good friends.

The boyfriend said, “Well, (said woman) was obviously out of his league.”

I asked him if he thought she was “hot.”

He said, “It’s not that, but I mean, she’s really in shape, and she’s a blonde.”

She was out of his league because she was a blonde.

I ask this: What’s blonde got to do with it?

Unfortunately, this wasn’t just one of the boyfriend’s inane slip-of-the-tongues; this mentality is everywhere.

I blame Barbie.

Barbie has set (and perpetuates) a grossly unattainable standard for young women. Somehow, thanks to Barbie and Hugh Hefner, blond hair has become a staple of beauty.

And what’s worse, this way of thinking runs deep — thousands of years deep.

Thanks to another brunette’s interest in the Discovery Channel, it has come to my attention that an attraction to blondes has actually been “hard-wired” into our heads. It has to do with blond hair being a genetic defect and cavemen being drawn toward that which is different.

I have proof of this: I’ve dated guys who have actually said, “I prefer blondes.”

Ah, of course, because hair color does determine personality, interests and general likability.

Brute.

There are some physical characteristics for which I can imagine having preference.

For example, wanting to date someone who is in shape — that’s just pure mammalian nature, or at least more so than a hairy ancient dude going after a birth defect. An attraction to a physically fit person coincides with the whole “survival of the fittest” procreation stuff.

But this whole instinctive pull toward blondes is a little unnerving. So what is it — peacocks have feathers, birds have songs and humans have ... blond hair? That really leaves brunettes in a crippling quagmire.

Albeit, blondes do stick out of a crowd, especially the “I just dipped my head in a vat of peroxide” blondes.

And because blondes act as an unintentional beacon in a sea of brunettes, more and more non-blondes are converting.

(While on the subject, has anyone else noticed this Barbie fixation has led to some very unfortunate hair coloring? Add that highlighter yellow mop-top to orange fake tans and it’s like a sunshine explosion gone bad.)

I don’t mean to take anything away from blondes — I have nothing against them, and I have no desire to be one (blond hair is no complement to my skin tone).

But maybe I’m a little jealous.

And I bet any other brunette is, too.

We’ve got good qualities, folks — we don’t burn as easily in the sun and our hair doesn’t turn green after swimming in chlorine.

It’s not that we want the attention or we wish Barbie’s younger sister had brown hair.

We just wish mainstream society would hop off the blond bandwagon and realize that brunettes need love, too.

(Sorry, redheads, you’re on your own — we brunettes have our own battles to win.)

Members

Username

Password

Auto-login on future visits

Forgot your password?
Register

What's happening

Add Event Advanced