Meg hair. If I had a dollar for every time I hear “Blonde just doesn’t suit you” I wouldn’t be writing this post. I’d be vacationing on my own island that I flew to in my own jet because I have more flippin’ dough than Buffet. Fact.
I did not “go bottle blond” because I thought I would have more fun. I have more fun daily than a person should be allowed. I love to have fun. If it’s not around I make it for my own amusement because I love to laugh more than I love anything (except Prudence.) Luckily, I laugh a lot at Prudence. The heartiest, tears streaming down my face laughter usually is at my own expense. I think it’s the healthiest thing that I have the ability to do. If you can’t laugh AT yourself than you’re really missing life’s greatest pleasure. Fact.
One of my earliest memories is sitting in suspension in high school (not everyone likes to laugh) and having my bestie pull white hairs out of my seventeen year old head. She was captivated.
Bestie: Meg, you’re like an old person or something. You have these white hairs. Wait! OMG! Hold on (this was 1994 so she didn’t say OMG. She said “Oh my God.”)
Just got another one!
Cut to 15 years later, guess what! OMG! The grey hairs didn’t go away!
It’s not a love-hate relationship with my hair. It’s a hate-hate one. One I can laugh at. I have tried everything. If you know me you know that’s not an understatement. At some point even the strongest warrior, the most tenacious solider has to know when to throw in the “dark mocha” stained towel, shake their fist into the air and defeatedly admit “fine, you win!”
I didn’t go down without kicking and screaming but I knew I was going down. In a town where being a blonde is a birthright, I relished being brunette. I was about to join the masses. I made the appointment to join the card carrying Los Angelino answer to Triple AAA. I was going blonde.
Being blonde brought me freedom. It brought me a few more weeks before I had to commit hours of my time and money to hide the greys. It blended in. I blended in. In a sea of bottle blondes it only makes sense that the iconic sex symbol would be another Megan. The rise of Megan Fox.
As a bottle blonde, you notice things more with your brunette brain. I was a dime a dozen out here in tinseltown. Guess what? I killed it in NYC. Yes, it’s true. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but what’s sexy is rarity. Like a yellow diamond, I turned many heads (usually bald) in Manhattan where a platinum hued woman will indeed get herself many admirer’s. It’s weird. It can’t be brassy or too white but the right “natural” blonde somehow implies great breeding and trophy wife and country club in the big apple. In Hollywood it screams “out of work actress.”
Why would a woman knowing she would be so much more successful as a brunette insist on going lighter? I think we all know that answer. Convenience. Do you really think the woman you see in the jogging pants and ill fitting hoodie don’t think the same thing? It’s easy. It’s comfortable and regardless of how sexy and hot we want to appear, sometimes those two factors are enough to explain the invention of “the croc.”
I have Megsmakeup.com and I have a handful of very close women friends. A handful. This would seem strange unless you’ve met a lot of the women in LA. I would garner the bet that you as well would only want a handful. That’s more than plenty. I have many single, straight guy platonic friends. I just like them better. I like the way men think sometimes. It’s so easy. Let’s face it, the woman species is tough and while I love being a part of it, it’s not the easiest club. Not out here anyway. My male friends are also not from “out here.” They’re all from back east. While they’re lawyer’s or banker’s or some sort of high-brow deal. They’re real people and I appreciate the directness from being a guy and the really love the directness from east coast people.
Straight Guy Friend: Meg you have a million excuses and I’m just telling you the blonde looks really bad. I have to go to the gym. I can’t eat carbs. Big flippin’ deal you have to color your hair more. Go back to brunette. This looks awful.
I saw his point, fair enough. I made an appointment and this was no easy in-and-out. I also gave up on thick and gorgeous hair. I have to buy that. I have given it up and know I need extensions.
Day 1: Former light blonde extensions removed
Day 2: Brought back to “natural” brunette color
Day 3: Brunette extensions put in to match new “natural” hair and add length and volume.
I’m back to brunette and while it has been 3 days and I already see some greys, it feel fine. Not “the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine” because while we did have carmeggedon this weekend, as usual, it wasn’t the end of the world.
Was it tough on my hair? It could have been. I used Mixed Chicks Leave In Conditioner. It’s actually “His Mix.” Black hair goes through so much chemical straightening that it’s a wonder it doesn’t fall out. The His Mix is so conditioning that even though my white girl hair went through enough torture to leave me bald, it stayed in and stayed healthy.
It also doesn’t leave even the slightest snarl to my extensions. The lady that does them bought a bottle of “His Mix” because she couldn’t believe how smooth my blonde extensions felt even after three months in.
Now I’m a brunette and I’m off to NYC next Monday. I’ll let you know how I’m received. It’s funny how a hair color defines so much about you for the outside stranger looking in.
How about you? Blonde or brunette and why? What do you think? Just to prove a brunette can think like a blonde…Can’t get the damn picture straight!!