My girl.

This is my girl. My little Vi. She is a basket case. She is probably pretending she is somewhere else RIGHT now. She likes milk a lot. She doesn't like being teased. She draws 50 pictures a day.

She's a lot like me- except...blond - a strange twist of fate that's significant for me.

I think I was fairly young when I realized I was not in the same boat as Barbie, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, etc. It began a deep seated weirdness towards the fair-haired. A sort of self-justified bigot-ism that festered into bitter my adolescence. That's when it really took off, culminating in a bleached hair experiment when I was 17, where I proved I'd be treated differently if I were blond- it was the one and only time any man has ever stopped me to compliment on the street. I was SO mad.

I began to wonder why. What about hair color made any difference or should produce a preference? Why is it associated with femininity? Why is it associated with beauty in general?

I suppose light equals good, dark equals bad. I guess brown is dirty, gold is clean. Whatever. (obviously I'm still a bit acid-based on this subject)

I know better than to judge people by their appearances, this is more of an observation on culture as a whole, a portion of the greater myth of beauty in the world.

Imagine my dismay at producing a tiny little golden haired girl. What can I say? Where does my bias lay now, as this little girl grows up with her thick head of straw colored hair? She is fair and rosy-cheeked and yet nothing like Cinderella. Not the center of attention, not the teachers pet. She's the oddball- the one in the corner acting like a coyote. She likes to wear a werewolf costume.

She's like I was at that age. I see so much of myself in her, and it makes me realize how many issues I've had with my own appearance and the constant judging of it against other people. I love this little girl- my sweet baby. My fragile little crazy girl.

I have to keep my mouth shut about blonds and guide my misanthropy elsewhere. I can't rag on men since I met Matt...dang-it...maybe I've just have to stop complaining. (no chance)