Stone Fox Bride

Summer, 1989. Axl Rose is on my t-shirt, Neneh Cherry is on my clock radio and Lloyd Dobler is in my heart. I discover a bottle of Sun-In at a gas station in South Haven, Michigan, next to a copy of Stephen King's, "The Dark Half". I absorb both poolside in 3 days straight and return to 7th grade emboldened, feeling way more Kelly Bundy than Jan Brady. Brendan King, the hot transfer with a Green Day sticker on his skateboard, looks me up and down at the locker bank. It’s the best. The blonder, the better, becomes my mantra. Aside from a few experimental stints — the Kurt Cobain hot pink Manic Panic phase: 1993, the (in hindsight, what I now recognize as a glaringly appalling display of cultural appropriation) brown cornrows Snoop Dogg phase (also wore a clip-on fake gold tooth with a Playboy bunny during this phase), the dark brown hair extensions Liv Tyler phase that went horribly wrong, 1999 (a tourist ran after me on Mercer shouting, Alanis, Alanis, can I have your autograph) — no matter what, year after year, I always seem to return to my (non) roots. Thank goddess for @ronniehairstyle, my Blonde Spirit Guide for the past twenty years who —crows feet, saggy tits, and two kids later — still keeps me feeling like that hotshit preteen in a training bra, even when I’m looking way more “Cousin It” than “It-Girl” chic. Viva la bleach! #stonefoxride #stonefoxmama --