Brunette Like Me

For a year I got to see what it was like to be a 'non-blonde.' It's been an interesting sociological experiment, even though that wasn't really what I was going after.

Almost exactly a year after I started having my hair professionally dyed I had to stop. Because of my 'rib-cage issue' I could no longer afford it and couldn't drive to the only place I trusted to have it done. And as proven before, I can't do it myself from a box.
It probably wouldn't look 'natural' even if I did manage to get it brown. My hair stylist did such a good job with it, a lot of people were surprised when I told them that it wasn't my real hair color.
It is weird of me to think that some of my good friends that I made this last year have never known me as a blond.

Most of the time I would forget that my hair was now a drastically different color. It was short enough that I couldn't see it. I just want to state that beforehand in case anyone is thinking that what I observed was because I had also changed my behavior.

One of the reasons I wanted to dye my hair was to make me look older - or rather, make me look my age. People were confused why I would want to get rid of my youthful look. I guess it is kind of odd for someone in their mid-thirties to want this but the best way I can explain it is this: Imagine if most of your peers treated you like you were ten years younger than them.
I'm not sure if I looked older or not. I did get the: "well, not older but... different." Just by my appearance, not my behavior, it seemed like other people thought I had a more of a "I could kick your ass" attitude. No longer the librarian.

The week that I changed my hair color, I was taking care of a dog that I have looked after for a few years. Before, whenever I would take her for a walk in the neighborhood, the old men working in their front yards would smile and wave to me as if they knew me. The only other acknowledgment from strangers on our walks was when we would run into another dog being walked. Sometimes humans without dogs would acknowledge the dog, but not to me. Years of this.

My first walk with the new color was on a sunny weekend. I walked the dog down the same streets I always have. An elderly gentleman was out gardening. Strange, no hello. I even smiled and waved but couldn't get him to even look at me. A block later, two men around my age were walking toward me. The actually looked at me, not just the dog. And they spoke to me, not just the dog. Come to think of it, they barely paid attention to the dog at all. After parting ways, I thought about these two encounters - and all of a sudden remembered my hair was different.

It was actually two different thoughts. I wasn't attributing it to that at first, but did prove that the behavior remained constant while appearance was a variable. This kept happening, though. Before, the only men that use to hit on me were usually twenty or more years older than me, out of shape, and rather slimey. When I got into my 30's I felt like I should wear a sign that said, "I'm too old for your midlife crisis," figuring they were looking for a 20-something trophy. I hardly ever had anyone my age approach me. That changed once the color of my hair changed. Finally the slimey old guys left me alone and men my age started talking to me.

I don't know how to classify this next group of men, so I won't. I'll just say that they are usually in small groups and I encounter them out of doors. I remember in high school complaining to my dad about an incident with this type. Dad said, "It's because you're blond." I didn't believe him. I figured anything with breasts was getting this treatment. What would color of hair have to do with it?
A week after my color change, I had to walk past the same type of men. I waited for the comments as I passed by. Nothing. As I turned the corner, my shoulders relaxed and I began to breathe again. I had never even noticed it before, but after years of dealing with this, I had developed a physical reaction to it. And was my dad right? Had I been treated that way because of hair color?

But there were also downsides to the change.
Would you believe I had the power to stop traffic? Yes, with just a flip of my hair and a well aimed smile, I could usually get a driver to stop their car if I needed to walk across a busy street that had no traffic lights (I'm almost embarrassed in admitting I do this). But this last year... a couple of times I almost wrenched my neck trying to get them to stop. Had I lost my touch? Were drivers getting ruder? Then I looked back at when I lost this power. Almost like Samson, was the power in the color of my hair?

There were also times that I was very aware of my hair color. Usually it was instances that I am always aware of my appearance. In certain places or with certain groups of people, having blond hair made me feel like I awkwardly stuck out . But now I felt like I could blend in to the crowd more and I liked that.

There are many other things, but I'll stop here for now.