Why I've Decided to Go Blonde
I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. A LOT of thought. After many sleepless nights, I’ve decided to go blonde. Believe me, this was not an easy decision. I’ve spent a lot of time in consultation with my wife and minister (just to clarify – my wife is not my minister. They are two different people.) We agonized over this decision, we prayed over this decision, and in the end they both told me the same thing: “Follow your heart.”
Well, my heart is telling me to give blonde a try.
Is this yet another shallow attempt to save my floundering marriage? Perhaps. After all, my wife always wanted to be married to a blonde man. When we first got together, I led her to believe that I was blonde. Foolishly, she believed me, even though it was pretty obvious to everybody that I was not. For one thing, there was my dark hair which should have been a dead giveaway, but she just wanted to belive in me so badly that she allowed herself to be suckered in by my lies. Fourteen year old runaways are like that.
I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to believe it, too. For a while there I was even wearing a lot of pastels because I thought they would look good with my blonde hair. But I could only lie to myself for so long. I didn’t have blonde hair and for a long time, for years, I thought maybe I never would.
We got married and settled down. Had a couple of kids. Everything was going great. And then, I don’t know. We were at the mall, and a couple walked by. They were about our age. A nice looking couple. They had their arms around each other, they looked so happy together, But the thing that struck me wasn’t so much the way they gazed at each other or the way he was (I thought inappropriately) licking the inside of her ear. It was his hair. Blonde. Blonde hair cascading down his shoulders into a perfectly coiffed mullet. The kind you sometimes see at drag races in the South. I looked at him and I thought to myself, “That could be me.”
At first I didn’t tell anybody. I was too scared. What if they laughed? What if they rejected me? What if it looked so unnatural on me that I ended up looking like post-plastic surgery Patrick Swayze? After all, I’m a Sephardic Jew. My people have always been swarthy. Swarthy and cheap. For me to turn my back on five thousand years of tradition and go blonde, the thought was incomprehensible. And so I tried put it out of my mind.
Tried and failed.
I kept envisioning myself looking like that man in the mall. Carefree. Gaunt. Bleeding a little from a cut on his cheek. Blonde. I didn’t know what to do. I started eating more. Then eating less. Then I was taking a lot of food and only eating a tiny amount of it; I would go to all you can eat buffets and just getting some pudding and a crouton. It was a very confusing time. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore (the pudding). And also this decision about my hair.
I had to come to a decision. That’s when the sleepless nights started. The thing that kept going through my head was, “How am I going to tell my kids?” I mean, really, how do you look your kids in the eye and tell them that you’re going blonde? Would they even understand what that meant?
My wife and I took them out for pizza and I carefully explained that Daddy was going to bleach his hear to get out the pigment, and then put a new color back in. Blonde. Naturally they had a lot of questions, but overall I think they took the news pretty well. Kids are resilient, and the thing that I tried to stress to them was that just because Daddy is going to have blonde hair won't mean I'll love them any less. At one point, my son asked, “Is this my fault?” I didn’t know whether to cry or smack him across the face. I chose the latter.
Anyway, that’s my decision.
What do I hope to gain from this experience? For starters, I want to find out if blondes really do have more fun. Which is to say, do they play more Scrabble?
Also, I think blonde hair will make my cornrows look even better. Yes, they look incredible now. Yes, my dark hair offsets the tiny white seashells I weave into them. All of that is true. But blonde "Axl Rose style" cornrows would also be off the hook, and if there's one thing I've always wanted to be even more than blonde, it's off the hook.
So there you have it. I know some of you will disagree with my decision. That's okay. You're entitled to your opinion, but kindly keep it to yourself because I've already made my appointment at Super Cuts and I'm not looking back. What my wife and minister helped me realize (again, two totally different people who happened to make me realize the same thing) is that if I don't like my new look, I can always go back to being plain old Michael Ian Black. But for once, just once, I'd like to be Michael Ian Blonde.