Rihanna or Twinkly?

What celebrity transforms into a blond bombshell for her upcoming cover shoot and totes her new locks all over town?

What celebrity showed off her new blond hair by posing in sassy, thigh-high black leather boots and denim daisy dukes?

What celebrity debuted a new bold hair color on her Twitter account?

Have you figured it out yet?

The fashion chameleon, twinklysparkles, changes her look yet again and steps out as a blond bombshell*

*do not try this at home

In fact, I normally try this at home. I color my hair about once or twice a year and I am so conservative that no one ever even knows. I have to drop hints around the house until I finally cave and come out with it, “Look, I highlighted my hair, what do you think?” Until they say, sheepishly, “Oh, yeah, Mom, that looks great. What did you do? Is it blonder? Why don’t you really color it next time…”

So, being the brave and ever darker-haired soul that I am, I scheduled a REAL hair-coloring appointment with my hair person. An appointment for highlights, you know, subtle, somewhat blond strands that blend magically and nearly imperceptibly with my own natural color. The kind of change that might prompt a comment like, “Hey, is there something different about you twinkly? Are you over your anemia? You have such rosy cheeks today” OR “Is that a new scarf you’re wearing?”

Nothing one would call DRAMATIC or even, gasp, PLATINUM.

Now, you all know that I have not much gray hair. The anemia ordeal has certainly aged me a couple of years. I have new jowls and deep down-turning creases beside my mouth, all obtained in just a few short weeks. But I didn’t earn any new gray hairs.

The new, overly-blond “highlights” actually give me a glimpse of what I will look like once my entire head turns gray white silver.

Move over Rhianna. I don’t know who the hell you are nor would I recognize your voice if I heard one of your songs on the radio, but this over-the-hill former toe-head is ready. Ready to take down peri-menopause. Ready to face the world with my face uncovered. Ready to go out without a hat.

Hey, whoever searched for “45 ddd breast” and got to my blog? I’m not fucking getting implants just because I have blond hair. Fuck you. And you know what? There is no size 45: bra sizes are in EVEN numbers fer chrissake. And it’s usually TWO BREASTS, not one.

You know what else? I’ve been the same bra size since high school. All right, until that unfortunate incident with my second pregnancy when my little bun-in-the-oven decided to kick my ribcage wider by a couple of inches. Yeah, you try carrying an 8+ pound weight in your uterus some time Mr. “45 ddd breast.”

I’ve got nothing to lose, people. I’m not fucking around. I let my inbox reach over 500 emails. 500 EMAILS. I’m never going back folks. Don’t fuck with the twinkster.

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