It was the first of many instances where I realized that after living in a state where I looked like everyone else, I now lived in a place where I stood out.
I am the exotic one here.
The cashier at the grocery store asked for my number.
Women passing me on the beach complimented my “highlights.’
I get looks in every bar or club I enter because besides being a head taller than most everyone else there, that aforementioned head is one covered in long blonde hair.
I opened a checking account and, by the end of the process, the financial consultant told me to let him know if I wanted to hang out.
A self-described attention whore, of course I am eating the attention up, but I cannot help but wonder if it could possibly have an affect on my ability to do my job.
In government reporting, we observe and report.
I typically sit in the corners of meeting rooms — wherever I can hear the most and get noticed the least…How do I blend in and do my job when everyone is painfully aware that this monolingual guero is there?
I guess I will just have to be better.
My mother always told me when I was little, “It hurts to be beautiful.” That was usually when someone was yanking a hairbrush through my rat’s nest though.
Rikki! That comment! Oh my gosh! Yes! My mom’s favorite is “you’re too pretty” said with a sigh.
Ty, they’ll eventually get used to you and your gorgeous locks.