I spent the first twenty-one years of my life waiting to be discovered…
These words form the opening sentence from the first volume of my autobiography, a highly comedic and entertaining book of essays on my life that I have been working on for some time. For as long as I can remember, I have had a passion for celebrity and wanting to be amongst them. I want to be in all of the gossip magazines, I want to start my own clothing line like the rest of them, I would love my own fragrance — something that smells of the sea, I want to break down on Entertainment Tonight about some kind of dependance I have on something, I think I’ll get addicted to Salvia (sounds like a fun thing to do), I want to own a luxurious home on Sunset Boulevard with intricate gardens and a finely tiled pool, I want to call the paparazzi and alert them to where I’m lunching with my BFF, Paris Hilton, and then act annoyed to see them, I even want to open a school for the children. Oprah has South Africa and Madonna claimed Malawi, so I’m not sure where my African oasis will be. I want someplace where I can be suspended in a hammock between two baobab trees sipping some local fruity drink as I watch lion cubs play rambunctiously with each other while a giraffe shoots its long tongue up into a tree to grab a snack.
I think my school will serve as more of a research center for adults, not the children, working on magnetic energy, which is one of my passions — I sincerely believe that magnets are the future of travel and of all electricity. Call me crazy now, but you just wait. Tesla started it, but I plan on finishing it.
So, I will have my school, my face in all the magazines, a fragrance, a clothing line, a personal friendship with Karl Lagerfeld, and surely a pop album on its way out which will feature a duet with RuPaul. I’ve already titled it and written a few songs, (I’m sure there’ll be more on that later. It’s meaningless auto tuned pop, but with tribal drums and muted trumpets!) There’s something missing though — something missing I know. What is it that is so different about me when compared to my celebrity friends? When I’m famous, I’ll have to get Kelly Osbourne on speed dial, for some reason, I think she’d give good advice, so would her mother.
Anyway, I already do everything like celebrities: I wear enormous sunglasses night and day, inside and out, I count calories, I moisturize, I exercise, I lounge about tanning, I spend hours thinking of ways to pitch my show to Bravo as a reality series, I have learned which side is my good side (my right), I have a driver, well, I don’t like to drive, so I’m driven everywhere, I wouldn’t touch sugar, I only eat organic foods, the list goes on.
I recall with sudden clarity what Jenna on 30 Rock said to Liz, “You can’t be serious about acting, you aren’t blonde.” Good God! That is what has been holding me back! All of my favorite celebrities and idols are blonde, Paris Hilton, Jennifer Saunders, Joan Rivers Hillary Clinton, Madonna, Martha Stewart, Alexis Stewart, Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, and Evita Perón. (Another one of my life dreams is to be the first male cast in the role of Evita, First Lady of Argentina, and all around saint.) If I want to be like these people, I need to look like them!
You’ll notice that I also have politicians that I admire, both blonde. I have a rather deep interest in politics which I think would surprise people. Someday, if I can muster up the cash, I would love to run for Governor of Iowa and then President, of course. If Sarah Palin can try, why can’t I? I always wanted to model, and is that really so far from pageants?
So, rather spontaneously, I decided to go blonde, and came to my friend Charity. I was ushered in like the celebrity I think I am and was soon seated, flipping through a book full of pictures of women with different shades of blonde hair. The color I decided to go with was similar to Alexis Stewart’s hair. If I could somehow be related to the Stewart’s, I would be in heaven. Literally, in heaven.
So, Charity mixed up the dye and slathered it on my head, coating my hair in sickly-sweet smelling chemicals. It was oddly relaxing and I think I need to have more scalp massages.
What follows is a stream of conscious session as my hair was being treated:
I’m now sitting in some kind of dryer that makes me feel like a woman in the 50s getting a perm, or like one of the Jersey housewives at Château, I prefer that vision. I wish Danielle would bust in here and threaten me. I think I’d be friends with Dina…love and light, love and light. My hair is tingling and my eyes watering a bit, I am not entirely sure what that means, but I’m sure it means that I am about to emerge as a sexy blonde — just call me Marilyn. I wonder if Marilyn was born blonde…surely not. Hmmmmmm…I wonder if I will look good blonde? I wonder how long I will have to sit here, all alone in a secluded corner? I have said ‘wonder’ a lot. It’s actually strangely comfortable. I want one of these dryers in my house, not just for drying my hair but for warming up in the winter. Holy crap, my eyes feel like they’ve been thrown into an onion. When will I ever get my eye surgery? I would love to be able to see without glasses again. Ewww, lady getting her eyebrows done. Would I go blind at that surgery? I saw a Lasik center on the way here, but I don’t think it’s the best idea to shoot lasers into my eyes at a strip mall. Oh, there’s Charity.
Then, my hair was rinsed out, and it was a kind of coppery color, not bad really, but it was to be blonder, so she mixed up some more colors and combed them through my hair. Pa was back by now after wandering around Walmart for and hour, he looked on with amusement. I dread knowing what he was thinking…
Back under the dryer.
Good God, it is hot here. My scalp is tingly, like ants are marching through my hair and having a picnic. I can’t wait to go on a picnic with Alison. I think I might like the idea of a picnic more than picnics themselves. I wonder where we will have the picnic? Probably isn’t the best idea to take a Hibachi grill to the Japanese Pagoda. I wonder how much it costs to be a vendor at the Farmers’ Market? I’d love to sell macarons and such every week. Bitches! [At this point I had read about becoming part of the Farmer’s Market. You have to be an occasional seller for one season only coming in every two or three weeks before you’ll be allowed to be a permanent fixture.] Their loss! They shan’t be treated to chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, olive oil & vanilla, peanut & chocolate, and lemon macarons! Serves them right for calling that a pirogue. There’s Charity again.
My hair was rinsed out again now and I turned around to look in the mirror. Holy shit. What I saw was a far departure from the usual. My hair was a kind of lemon yellow. Maybe I made a mistake, I thought. Even though the majority of the nationalities that I am composed of are German, I have been blessed with the Eastern European features of my mother’s Bohemian relations, and they are mainly dark haired, so this was a shock. As I sat in the chair, getting my hair styled, I started to become accustomed to the new color, it isn’t an organic color by any means, but Charity recommended some shampoo that will tone down the yellows, which is a good thing.
I’m very happy that I colored my hair, but I understand now that it is a never ending process, there’s always something new you can do to it to make it look better, and I think I will definitely lighten it up some more to a more white blonde. I think I’ll look nice like that.
So, we headed home, I stared in the mirror the whole way home looking at my dandelion colored hair in the mirror. Jessica was going to flip her shit. I love that phrase. And so at home, I Skyped her, and she did. I think she got over it though pretty well.
I decided to take a bath to let the shampoo soak into my hair and relax after a day in the sun. Now, this might be a bit too much information, but, oh well, I’m a moderately hairy person and the hair on my body is still brown, so that looks quite ridiculous in the mirror. To use the expression, the carpets definitely do not match the drapes.
To my surprise, the shampoo did work. It was nothing drastic, but a subtle lightening of the yellow, some parts look much nicer, some parts are still yellow. I’m sure that as I continue to use it, the lighter my hair will be, and I look forward to seeing the end result, though as I said, I don’t think there are end results in the process of becoming even more beautiful.