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When I was a child I asked my mother what homosexuality was about and she said - and this was 100 years ago in Germany and she was very open-minded - 'It's like hair color. It's nothing. Some people are blond and some people have dark hair. It's not a subject.' This was a very healthy attitude.
In the early 1940s, as a young teenager, I was utterly appalled by the racist and jingoist hysteria of the anti-Japanese propaganda. The Germans were evil, but treated with some respect: They were, after all, blond Aryan types, just like our imaginary self-image. Japanese were mere vermin, to be crushed like ants.
In some instances, I don't care what people think. In other instances, I do - especially because of the stereotype. People take a look at me and say, 'She's cute. She's blond. She's an actress. She's a bimbo.' You know? So I take great pains to show I'm intelligent, to show I'm not a twinkie.
I would miss months of school and then return with bright blond hair. Needless to say, there was bullying. I wasn't beaten up daily, but there was name-calling and jealousy. You have to bear in mind that 'Harry Potter' wasn't cool. I wasn't part of the 'Terminator' franchise.
I wanted to be like my friends. I hung out with girls who had blue eyes and blond hair and I thought, 'I want to look like them!'
I just like guys who have an edge to them. But it could go either way. Like, I have been into the surfer blond frat guys, and then there's definitely a thing where I like the dark, mysterious bad boy.
I have been 130 lbs. as well as 215 lbs. I have had blond, strawberry blond, green, pink and purple hair, and none of that has ever exempted me from having lewd comments flung at me in the street.
I have a big personality, and I think big personality plus blond hair makes me come across as glib. With dark hair, people look at your face more. Before, it was all about the hair.
The working men, I'll go by and they'll whistle. At first they whistle because they think, 'Oh, it's a girl. She's got blond hair and she's not out of shape,' and then they say, 'Gosh, it's Marilyn Monroe!'
My problem was that I was blond. There were no heroes with blond hair. Robert Taylor and Henry Fonda, they all had dark hair. The only one I found was Van Johnson, who wasn't too cool. He was a nice, homely American boy. So I created my own image. It worked.
The only time I'm not Hulk Hogan is when I'm behind closed doors because as soon as I walk out the front door, and somebody says hello to me, I can't just say 'hello' like Terry. When they see me, they see the blond hair, the mustache, and the bald head, they instantly think Hulk Hogan.
I always worked mostly in Quebec. I never thought of the States, somehow. I don't know - I don't have blue eyes or blond hair. I thought I didn't fit with the stereotype of America.
On April 3, 2014, Jane Goodall turned 80. The iconic blond ponytail has gone gray, but the sparkle of intelligence, sly humor, and fierce dedication still shines from her hazel eyes.
Yes, I'm blonde. When I started as an actor, because of the accent and my body and my personality, it was not what the stereotype of the Latina woman in Hollywood is, so they didn't know where to put me. The blond hair wasn't matching. The moment I put my hair dark, it was better for my work.
It can be hard for the cute girl. I was blond, cute, broke. I was beat up. I was thrown inside lockers. I was burned with cigarettes. My hair was lit on fire.
I suffer from peroxide phobia. Every time I've gotten near a blond woman, something of mine has disappeared. Jobs, boyfriends... one time an angora sweater leaped right off my body.
The real color of my hair is mouse. I always want to be ginger, which I was when I was born, or blond, because I live in L.A., and I want to look like I go surfing without any physical effort.
I walked into this industry blond with red lips, and I will leave this industry blond with red lips. Mark my words.
I'm insecure about everything, because... I'm never going to look in the mirror and see this blond, blue-eyed girl. That is my idea of what I'd like to look like.
Well, my piano's really beautiful. I actually have two pianos. I have a Yamaha upright from the '60s that's blond, wood, and black, and I also have one from the '20s from Chicago - not a well-known brand or anything.
I'm a natural blonde, but I feel like a brunette. I feel like people treat me now how I should be treated. People used to be shocked, when I was blond, that I wasn't stupid.
It's fun to be blond, and it's almost difficult to remember how I used to look with my proper hair color.
Perfect isn't normal, nor is it interesting. I have no features without makeup. I am pale. I have blond lashes. You could just paint my face - it's like a blank canvas. It can be great for what I do.
My father identified as a black man. No one asked him because he was clearly black. But people always ask me. If we were together, people would look at us in a really strange way. It sucked. As a little girl I had blond hair and they'd look at me, look at him, and be disgusted.
When people look and decide they have nothing in common with me - I'm 43, balding, blond, whatever - there's something absolutely invigorating about winning them over. Even if it's eight people from Sweden who don't understand what I'm talking about.
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