I was born a blonde, and had been one for many, many years. How many? Well, let's not go there. To do so would be to give away my age. Let's just say that I've spent enough time as a blonde to be able to make my own comments. A number of years ago I reached a personal goal of mine, and in celebration, decided to make some changes, one being my hair color. After much internal debate, I decided to go red. Not the freaky orange, carrot-top looking red, but a dark, deep, rich, mahogany red. Could have been my high school fascination for a red headed soccer player, or my innate desire to be different, who knows. But, I digress.
So, I went to my hairstylist and had my hair colored. And, boy was it red! My mother hated it, and so much as told me so. But, when meeting new people, they were surprised to find out that red was not my natural color.
As I wandered through life as a reformed blonde, I noticed some things. I was treated differently, by men and women alike. As a blonde, I had discovered that men and women both would talk down to me. And, many women were just down right nasty to me. The old "dumb blonde" stereotype in full force. As a redhead, I was given the benefit of the doubt. I was given credit for having above average intelligence. Woman would accept me into their inner sanctum much sooner than when I was a blonde.
With all the talk of stereotypes being bad, they still exist and always will. So, I've gone back and forth between blonde and redhead. All I worry about is the people who really know me, and they treat me the same regardless of hair color.