Some people, especially here in California, aspire to blondeness as the ideal state of being. Not me. Even though I started out as a tow-headed kid, I knew that I was meant to have dark hair -- dramatic hair, mysterious hair, hair that everyone takes seriously. And as soon as creeping grey forced me to start coloring, I became the brunette I'd always wanted to be.
It lasted for five glorious years before P conspired with my hairdresser to give me highlights "so the roots won't show as much." And to my total chagrin ... I look better. Specifically, I look younger; I suppose because the color is less severe against my face. No wonder so many fiftyish ladies go around sporting those fake frosted highlights.
So, I guess I'm stuck as a semi-blonde for the foreseeable future. But I'll always be a brunette in my soul! My hair does not define me, dammit!