Jason Lies...or, the Denial Brunette, Part I

Jason lies.

I realized this about a week ago…but didn’t want to admit it.

He is a liar, liar, pants on fire.

You can see his lies at work, pervading my thought patterns and ruining the concept behind this blog in my most recent post of just two weeks ago (by the way, excuse me for being remiss in posting, dear readers, but don’t worry, I plan to bombard you with thoughts on blonding, to make up for it.) Here is what he said, which led to a trail of lies, denial, delusion, and self-deceipt, which I will detail below:

JASON: Brunette? Not you, honey, you were always blonde.

ME: [Hopefully, eyes wide with glee] Really?

JASON: [Nodding his head with a curt up and down motion that makes his nod seem utterly decisive] Mm-hmm.

ME: *GASP* You know, I always thought I was blonde! I really always did! When I was a baby I was a blonde, a reeeal blondie-blonde, like with a white-blonde curly mop. I mean, over the years it got darker, but brunette? Please! It’s just that people’s definitions of ‘blonde’ vary so much. I mean, I was always a dirty blonde, in my own opinion, it wasn’t until I got to high school when someone actually referred to me as a brunette, and I gotta tell you, I was so offended…

And I just rattled on like that for god knows how long, Jason staring back at me in the mirror, nodding that little nod of his with the tiniest smile playing on his lips.

Jason lies, but my pretty petite brunette friend, who should also be known to the elves of blogland as my super-savvy publishing industry friend, does not. A week later, while giving me feedback and comments on the project, she ever so gently pointed out to me that my illusion of my own natural blonde-ness was complete and utter bullshit. While writing about this project, I’d written a sentence about the “dark honey-colored hue of my natural locks.” All she had to do was put her finger under it, look at me, and shake her head pretty little brunette head.

To call myself a “natural blonde” is to lie; my pretty petite brunette friend knows it, I know it, and probably all of the people who have met me personally and who read this thing know it. Yet somehow, I always felt with deep certitude that really, I’ve always been a blonde.

It’s time for me to own up—this project was never about going “undercover” as a blonde to me. In my own skewed little reality, I’ve been a blonde on the inside all along. To vain, in-denial-Kitty, this project has always secretly been about getting back to my blonde roots, about living as the real blonde me. This whole idea, while pitched to the entire world and all the readers of blogland as an “experiment to see how the other half lives,” was secretly about experiencing life as I was sure god probably intended me to live it, but merely forgot to keep up with. He’s busy, he got sidetracked, he let my hair get dark, and according to my mother, this was most likely because I insisted on dyeing my it funny colors when I was a teenager.

Move over, James Frey. Make room for the real author of this blog, the DENIAL BRUNETTE.