I went to the hairdresser last week. For just a touch-up and trim, as you do.

Clarianna, my stylist, asked whether I wanted luzes no cabelo. Highlights? Sure, why not? Certo. Pois não. We are in the tropics, after all.

So she started in with the tin foil strips. A couple. Then lots. Then still more. Concerned, I verified we were only doing a few highlights (apenas uns poucos), right? Of course, just a few. Algumas.

Well, I guess it’s a question of what your definition of “a few” is. I’ve never been this blonde in my life. Still, I suppose it goes with my reputation as the woman who always wears Bermuda shorts, even when it’s cold. This is the tropics, after all.

blonde

Now, all my life I’ve heard that blondes have more fun. I’ve seen the commercials and movies where the blondes get the guy and ride in convertibles and have men falling over themselves to buy them drinks and lovely jewelry … and the brunette is the merry sidekick. Um, still a sidekick here! No convertibles and no diamonds. Need more highlights, you think?

My Portuguese teacher told me that Brazilians have a saying: As mulheres não ficam velhas, elas ficam loira. (Women don’t get older, they become blonde.) I wonder if Clarianna is trying to tell me something.