I was already quite drained, so I made a Starbucks stop for black iced coffee. "What's your name?" the barista asked me for drink identification purposes. I paused -- those blonde bangs tickled my eyelashes and I just... didn't feel like myself.
"Kimberly," I replied with conviction.
In good (conflicting?) company
I met my best friend Veronica* for lunch, who also happens to be a blonde. She was blown away by my makeover, comparing it to staring at the sun: "It's very jolting at first and my eyes need some time to adjust!" she said. "You look awesome, I just wouldn't have recognized you had I not known to look for 'blonde Brooke.'"
"Yeah, so I'm Kimberly today. It just feels right."
Veronica was also that friend, I realized now, whose relationship status guys always asked me about. She's gorgeous, smart, and a catch -- but with my recent experience in being carnivorously catcalled just for existing, I was curious if she and her natural blondeness could relate.