By Sugar Mama
While I realize there are more pressing matters in the world -nlike whether or not Khloe is really a Kardashian – there’s one unsung issue I feel compelled to bring to paper.
Blondes do have more fun.
Or, at least, they don’t get fired nearly as often.
Twenty years of promotions, raises, pats on the back, and, BOOM, one week after I go from flaxen to my natural color of burnt pancake, I get the ax from one of my editors. I’m a writer, not a model, mind you, and could arguably be classified as having a radio face. So my looks thus far have been inconsequential to my career.
Or so I thought.
Something happened during my metamorphosis at the hair salon that day – sort of like when that housefly got stuck in Jeff Goldblum’s teleportation module in “The Fly.” Because on a molecular-genetic level, I, like Goldblum in the movie, began to exhibit off-putting behaviors, like vomiting up demands for more money, flexibility and independence.
And just like Mr. Goldblum, I got shot down.
Had my new head of hair really fried my future to its very epidermis? You tell me. Because 15 minutes after hearing the news of my termination, one of my kids threw up on my feet and proceeded to do so regularly for six days straight. A week after that, while playing solitaire with my dog during all this newfound time on my hands, a tick implanted itself into her ear. And then that same day – no lie – I unknowingly laundered a snail with a load of whites.
My seemingly benign decision to switch teams had altered the universe in such a profoundly adverse way, I knew it was time to take a hard look in the mirror and ask myself, “Is massaging brain-cell-obliterating chemicals into my scalp really THAT bad?”
The answer, of course, was a resounding no … not at the risk of endangering my family any further. So, strand-by-strand, I made the decision to pull my future back through its cap.
Now, did my son get better post-bleach? Yes. Did the tick find its way to another ear? Probably. What about that snail? Dead, but my son hasn’t brought one home in his pocket since.
And did I get my job back?
I did indeed.
So I don’t know why we get such a bad rap. In my experience, blondes are pretty smart, two.
I want to be you when I grow up.
Love to say it…I told you so!! Welcome back 🙂