I used to be a brunette.
Don't be concerned; I’m still a brunette today too. But in between brunette stages I was misguided, and I thought it would be in my best interest to get blonde highlights (as evidenced by my multitude of beautiful blonde friends, as seen below).
As an eighth grader I fell prey to a bored weekend when my friends RW and MK were staying over, and ended up with a head of red hair. Long, red hair. I’ve always been jealous of people with red hair, I think it’s fantastic, but it was not my color and I have since been content to admire it on others from a safe distance.
As punishment or something, my mom decided to just make me grow it out, so that by the middle of my freshman year of high school (a very critical time in a teenager’s life) my hair was half red and half my natural brown, which I referred to as being “mousy” in color. I convinced my mom that it was time for the help of a professional.
I got my subtle blonde highlights, which I loved and which I thought looked *awesome for all of high school. Then I turned 18 and got my driver’s license renewed. The blonde had reached a new level that I suddenly noticed differed greatly from the color of my eyes and eyebrows. Starting college, I knew I didn’t want to be unrecognizable during Rush, and in the senior pictures I had sent in, I was still blonde.
I got pictures back after Bid Day and my immediate concern was that the blondeness had reached epic proportions. I remember walking from the South Side parking garage to the Commons, where I lived at A&M my freshman year, and being stopped by a guy who told me I looked like Jessica Simpson.
Just for the record: no matter how annoying she is, it is ALWAYS a compliment when a Texas girl gets told she looks like Jessica. And who was I to argue?
I finally broke down at the end of that semester, cut my hair to my chin and low-lighted it back to my natural color. I’ve never touched hair color since, and yet I have still been bothered by the annoying problem of my driver’s license all these years. Security guards at airports and bouncers at bars usually feel the need to make a comment “wow, you look really different than your picture”. Thanks for the keen observation Captain Obvious.
Since my parents moved, I finally had a reason to get a new license. “Change of address” I told the woman at the DPS. I also pointed out that I am no longer 5’6, but 5’7, to which she promptly ignored me and asked if I was wearing my corrective lenses.
I finally got my new license on Monday and the picture is much better; since it actually looks like me and all. They didn’t change my height though, which was typical but also makes me think that instead of people commenting on my hair color, they will really start to notice that missing inch that was omitted from the card… because sometimes, it’s the little things.
"I tend to notice little things like that -- whether a girl is a blonde or a brunette."
- James Bond, Diamonds are Forever (1971)