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Blonde Ambition

I have really dark hair, and a matching disposition.

In pursuit of fun & frivolity this festive season, I turned to the old saying "Blondes have more Fun" out of pure laziness and due to a lack of time. To inject some spark and sass into my short vacation, I chose an easy out,   a not so-cheap solution as it would turn out (the trip to the hair salon set me back a pretty penny)
I changed my outward appearance hoping that a domino effect would ensue: fingers and toes crossed, I made a wish that my blonde highlights would lead to a more cheerful and carefree disposition resulting in an enormous amount of fun!

I reasoned, if Charles Darwin considered utilizing of his time time to examine whether hair colour affected the ability of a woman to find a mate, according to an article at the following link, my little experiment wasn't such a ridiculous proposition in the least.

Stereotype Alert!
This is so unlike me, shallow much?
I do not condone making judgement about people based on their external attributes, this is a slippery slope to the objectification of woman in particular.
But it was summer, I was on system overload and was spending a huge amount of time in an air-conditioned office while my fellow South Africans were at play in the sunshine on the pristine beaches of the Cape. Success in the workplace was the last thing on my mind, so my straight, dark hair had to go in favour of curls with streaks of blonde.

"Not natural at all then?" inquired sensible Me.
"Shhhhhh!" said frisky Me, in the mood to play.
The time for serious and sensible was long gone; it retreated into the shadows along with moody and miserable.

Did it work?
Was I more Marilyn Monroe, Scarlett Johansson, all coquettish and enticing; less of a school marm?
Nope, I can't do bombshell.
Did I have fun?
You betcha.
When the work clothes, the make up and the worries came off, carefree Me was there, waiting... ready to play in the surf, dive in giant waves, breath in salt air, build sand castles with moats, lick curly cones and chew on chops and wors encrusted with sand, dance barefoot on hot sand to the beat of a happy heart.

And I sang,  hair wild and bushy from the sea, looking like Diana Ross from the Cape Flats.
And I feasted on everything, guilt free and ravenous.
And I slept like a baby in the arms of my leading man.

Did this have anything to do with the bits of blonde?
Not likely.
It did go great with my newly acquired tan, though.

I blame it all on summer.
I swear it was the heat that melted inhibitions and brought out the fun in me.

Marilyn's got nothing on me!                                                                                                                                                    

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