2006-08-24

The Anonymous Blondes

Around 10:00 this morning I wandered over to the office vending machine for my customary Breakfast Snickers and found myself standing next to a woman who looked naggingly familiar. Highlighted hair, manicured hands, pleasant smile... but she was too old to be an aquaintance of mine. And then it hit me: she was a grown up version of the Anonymous Blonde.

The Anonymous Blondes. You know the ones I'm referring to - 5'5", 115 pounds, acrylic nails and Silver jeans. I have always been puzzled by them; they are not (contrary to popular opinion) dumb, and they're generally nice enough. But they're inexplicably bland, and it makes me wonder: when they aren't straightening their hair or watching Laguna Beach or texting their BFF Jessica, what is it that they think about? What is it that they do?

I've been plagued by this mystery for years, and here is the part that really eats at me: what happens to the Anonymous Blondes when they grow up?

Some of them, I know, move into gated communities where they do Pilates and wear Juicy Couture sweatsuits to the grocery store. But what about the rest of them? Maybe they grow more distinctive personalities. Maybe they finally throw away those god-awful Louis Vuitton purses. Maybe they write articles for Seventeen magazine, teaching the next generation of Anonymous Blondes how to properly apply cream eyeshadow.

Or maybe they just burst into flame at the age of 25 and are born again as 16-year-olds from the ashes of their Abercrombie miniskirts.

Until today, I was under the impression that adult Anonymous Blondes were mere legends, a mythical species -- sort of like well-dressed, bipedal unicorns. But evidence collected at the vending machine suggests otherwise. They are out there, as real* as you and me.

*with the exception of the parts constructed from silicone.

zebrasaur at 9:14 p.m.

0 comments so far

previous | next