My blonde life

My one-year blond phase is now officially over. I had enough of very blond and wanted something more subtle, along the lines of strawberry or ash blond, but my hairdresser had other ideas, so I ended up with the color of expired chocolate. Enough said.

It has been a fun year, though. I could finally verify for myself whether gentlemen prefer blondes (they do). I felt a certain lightness of being which is not characteristic of my true brunette self. I took myself a little bit less seriously and I think I was also taken a bit less seriously by others, which was a welcome change.

When you are blond, people tend to smile to you more and generally have a more positive predisposition. Beats me as to why it should be so. Maybe I just looked less intimidating than usual?

There seems to be, apparently, an evolutionary explanation for why men prefer blonds:

A blue-eyed male with a brown-eyed mate would not have the same assurance the resulting brown-eyed infant was his child and therefore worthy of a slice of the mammoth he risked his life trapping and slaughtering and then spent days dragging back across miles of icy tundra.

Now it dawns on me that the origin of that fantastic Bulgarian proverb, which says that there is no hungry blonde ("ruso gladno niama") probably date back to those mammoth-hunting times.

In retrospect, I did enjoy it. I also think I was a pretty convincing blonde, attitude and all. So there might be a second phase to this experiment. In the meantime I am sticking with chocolate.