Blonde Over Blonde

I've been growing my hair recently under the theory that after a guy gets a haircut, everyone thinks he looks good just because it looks different. So if my hair gets really shaggy and I cut it right before (or during) the wedding, then I'll be the handsome groom no one expected I'd be.

These new long-ish locks prompted my boss to suggest I lighten my hair. Possibly she said this as a joke. Either way, I mentioned it to Deborah, and before I knew it she was envisioning this yin-yang thing at our wedding with me in a dark suit and light hair and her in a light dress and dark hair. I have always harbored secret curiosity about dye-jobs, so I listened intently. The next thing I knew, she was in the hair aisle at CVS.

I stripped to my skivvies, we listened to Bob Dylan's brilliant "Blonde On Blonde" album and Deborah began painting my hair. It took a few minutes before the pain in my scalp set in; those were a good few minutes. Then the pain became embarrassingly unbearable, so I showered and emerged from the bathroom...a redhead.

The red soon dissipated to something resembling strawberry blonde, as you can see above. As I gazed at my new doo in the mirror, Deborah said: "It looks better in the mirror than in real life."

What am I supposed to do with that, exactly?

At work, women said they liked it, but they're preprogrammed to say that to anyone with a dye-job. It's a female law of nature, like childbirth. The men, meanwhile, compared me to one of the following: Ellen DeGeneres, Martina Navratilova or David Spade. I'm pretty sure those weren't compliments. Most didn't make any comment whatsoever, but one told me that the next time we were out drinking he'd "tell me how he really felt."

Anyone know how long I'll look like this? Will people talk smack about my roots during the wedding? And should I alert the Human Rights Campaign about the friend who declared this "the gayest thing Matt Katz has ever done"?