I don’t think I can be a blonde anymore.
Don’t get me wrong, it's been a blast.
I f I open my eyes wide
And pump a little more blood into my lips.
I’m almost guaranteed to get whatever I
Could ask for from the boys sitting around the bar.
From complete strangers at gas stations and shopping malls.
Some sort of instinctive genetic code predisposing
Ordinarily cynical, selfish people to help the little angel
With bewilderment and helplessness in her eyes.

It’s been swell, but the swelling’s gone down.
Homeless men asking for quarters, then kisses
Construction worker catcalls of
Hey-Snow White!
A guy I barely know putting slimy hands on me-without invitation!
As if the platinum-white-silver-gold makes it all okay.

And the second commandment of my social circle
Has been changed just for me
In recent months,
To Thou Shalt Not Fuck With the Blonde
Cuz the kitty cat’s got claws and
She’ll rip your throat out if you try anything
Not to mention that all my big brother types
Would back-alley anyone who overstepped their bounds
Despite the fact that I’m more than capable of doing it myself.
But they flock around me, where I perch on my stool
Holding court with smiles and favor
My hair burnished and shining like a flame
And they’re the moths drawn to it in the dark.

But I don’t think that I want to be that girl anymore
She’s served her purpose.
And it was fun being her for awhile.
But, y’see, I’m starting to notice myself doing things.
I think the bleach is getting into my brain
Seeping through my scalp a little bit more with each touch-up.
Peroxide dissolving my defenses
Leaving my cerebrum laid bare to the elements.
Make me do things that I know I’m too smart for.
Giving a boy who treats me badly
Way too many one more chances.
And filling up the gas tank before realizing that my wallet
Is sitting on my dresser, 50 miles away.
And I’ve begun to affect an empty-headed giggle that flows
Too naturally for comfort
And pretty soon my bust size will outpace my IQ.

So it’s time to reincarnate.
Maybe a redhead who won’t take any crap from anybody.
Or a brunette ice queen to be cold, distant, impossibly untouchable.
Perhaps blue or purple punk rocker to shock and subvert.
But I know that I can’t be the blonde anymore.
It’s time to be someone else.
Natural Blondes are caused by a recessive gene that means that no melanin is produced in the hair folicle.

Both parents have to possess the blonde gene for a blonde child to be born.

Currently recessive conditions are in decline world-wide. This is because the human populations are out-breeding at quite a fast rate, and this means that the chances of these genes meeting each other is very low. This is good because quite a lot of genetic diseases are necessarily recessive. Necessarily because otherwise evolution would tend to have removed them from the population. So genetic diseases are declining through dilution.

Alas! This also means that true blondeness is doomed also. The current estimate is that blondeness will be all but extinguished in about 200 years, if nothing were to be done- the last blondes are likely to be in Finland.

The WHO has denied doing any studies into this issue, so it may very well have been misreported; nevertherless IMO it is likely that the number of natural blondes will go down over time.

Blond, Blonde (?), a. [F., fair, light, of uncertain origin; cf. AS. blonden-feax gray-haired, old, prop. blended-haired, as a mixture of white and brown or black. See Blend, v. t. ]

Of a fair color; light-colored; as, blond hair; a blond complexion.

 

© Webster 1913.


Blonde (?), n. [F.]

1.

A person of very fair complexion, with light hair and light blue eyes.

[Written also blond.]

2. [So called from its color.]

A kind of silk lace originally of the color of raw silk, now sometimes dyed; -- called also blond lace.

 

© Webster 1913.

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