I already had all the colors. A bit like the seasons. The world has a different color every quarter of a year. And somehow it seems to me that my mood is the same. Sometimes it is gray and mushy, then it is a white piece of paper. Then the sun comes out again and at the latest with the heat everything is forgotten again. And changes the hair. Like life.

I used to be a very natural girl.

I did not dye my hair and they hung out of my head ashen and colorless like a street-kitten. Just as boring as myself. Boring but satisfied. It does not require a noticeable color on the head to satisfy what lies underneath. It does not take any optical illusion to be beautiful for someone. At least that’s what I thought.

Like all the girls, I too had a dream. It was the dream to be a famous model. Today I laugh about it. Today, I have to wonder about myself how excited I was. I have been far too small and at that time too overweight to really have any serious chances for a career in model business.

As I said: today I would laugh at myself, in the past, I just followed the dream. And without batting an eyelash, with street-kitten brown head, too much weight and missing 10 cm height, I followed my dream.

I researched the internet and found a model agency in Stuttgart. At that time, Stuttgart was very far away from home. Today I live there myself, some time ago almost in the center. Full of self-confidence, I had sent pictures to the agency and secretly expected a declining. But my self-confidence had obviously opened a door for me, that would stay closed today.

The agency actually invited me. I was excited, I was nervous and I began to dye my hair. The former girlfriend of my brother was a hairdresser, and so she gave me a type advice before the appointment, which was so important for me. It had to be blonde. In addition, I conveniently had a friend who drove me with his very sensitive “compliments” almost starving, which made me a few pounds easier.

The blonde is always the good, you know that at least since the reading of storybooks. The figures Goldmarie and Pechmarie in Grimm’s fairy tale “Frau Holle” provided the blueprint: the principle of good and evil, of white and black, of blond and brown. Female beings with fair hair are standing on the sunny side of life, they are rewarded with precious metal like the sweet and modest Goldmarie, while the nasty characters are summarily tared. And for those who unfortunately had no fairy tale-shaped childhood, at the latest with the TV age everything becomes clear: The hair must be blonde and the thoughts dirty, just like Madonna. Marilyn Monroe (which, by the way, is brunette by nature) proved us, that appearance is everything. By the movie “How to make a millionaire” from 1953, Monroe nippled as a short-sighted and big-lipped-boob-wonder with unmistakable sensuality, but without any sense. Ursula Andress, Brigitte Bardot, Jane Fonda, Pamela Anderson and Claudia Schiffer are just a few examples among many. And at the latest with the invention of Barbie it is clear why it had to be blond, a beauty ideal that already manifests itself in children’s minds. So too with me, although I have never played with dolls.

Top prepared but with any lack of self-confidence, I made the appointment true. I even got a set card.

Of course I was never offered a job, but actually that does not matter. Because I’ve learned a much more important lesson:

you can get that far, only if you just do it instead of just thinking about it.

Doubt is death to a creative mind.

When I grounded and put aside the dream of the high-gloss model, I also put aside the “compliments-maker”. I exchanged him with one, who simply says nothing at all. Except for my hair color, that was clearly too light. It had to be dark.

Brunette women are considered more intelligent, as even a study by the City University London with 1,500 men surveyed. Gone with the blond suspicion of dependence and helplessness. It should look mature and adult, less playful and more the type of loyal, loving relationships. The whole thing is paired with my Italian roots. E voilà, finished the passionate, mysterious miss.beenee.

I liked the new hair color as much as the relationship. Down to earth, real, and loyal on every level. It does not seem in vain to say:

Blondes are for guys, dark ones for men.

Unfortunately, one does not in vain say:

With the men, the women change the color of their hair!

And so I became blond again.

I’ve tried everything in the meantime.

Red was ok – asking the others. I did not feel well with it.

Black was terrible, as was my state of mind.

Shorter was cool, but unfortunately quite unpopular with the men.

Short and curly was crowned by failure,

and even the trend ‘Ombre’, I ran after as well as the wrong men.

And today?

I fell in love with (a man’s) grey hair – the only color I didn’t have myself yet – and I would love to spend my time with him until my own hair looks alike.

I am happy now, and I do not care about the color of my hair anymore!

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