dear djw

Dear DJW,

I don’t remember the day we met. We always just knew each other. When you go to a small Catholic elementary school in a small town you just get to know everyone. I do remember, though, the summer we became friends. We were sixteen then and it was before the complexities of driving, sex, and relationships had really hit us. We spent many days together with EB at the neighborhood pool while she lifeguarded and we distracted her brought lunch (Chipotle, usually, but you never ate a ton of it because you worked out and were on a strict diet to keep yourself in tip top shape for the Marines.) We talked about the good, the bad, and the ugly, and we mercilessly but lovingly made fun of you for your escapades with the East High School girls, especially TW. We joked about being three deep and about Mrs. Z yelling at us to watch the swimmers more.

When I introduced you to one of my best friends, CM, that summer, I knew you would like her. I did not know that she would end up being your first and that you would both develop feelings for each other. I’m both grateful and apologetic for that. I want you to know that she cared deeply for you and I’m happy that you got to know and love her. But I’m also sorry if she hurt you, or the way my friends and I discouraged her from pursuing anything more serious with you did. I’ll never know what impact that introduction had on you, but all I can do is hope that it was a positive one. I’m sorry that I urged you that things with EB would never work out. I should’ve told you to follow your heart no matter what.

But most of all, I’m sorry that I never reached out before I moved. I should’ve told you to come and say goodbye. I should’ve asked how you were. I should’ve made you meet with the Officer so he could’ve told you about ROTC or enlisting or how much potential you had.

I may have always been a year ahead of you in school, but you were only a few months younger than me and a lot bigger and stronger, and you liked to remind me of that as much as you could. I always admired you immensely for your commitment to your family and your country. I imagined the letters and photos I would send you once you enlisted. I loved how good of a big brother you were, because I have a good one too and I know what a blessing it is to have that.

Our friendship may have faded since I moved, but I want you to know that I’ll never forget you. I love you and I hope that you’re at peace. I am immensely thankful to have known you and been your friend.

EB said, “Some people just touch your heart in a way that can’t be forgotten.” You touched mine and many others.

Rest in peace, DJW. 12.16.17.





I’m back. Resurrected, risen, returned.

Did the whole move six states away thing, and damn, it was hard.

If you know me, though, you know I don’t give up. Ever. So I’m determined that this was meant to be and adjusting is just hard, but I really do think I am supposed to be here. I get better every day and I feel more and more like myself too.

I’d be writing all weekend if I were to use real form and posts, so, just for my own memory, I’m listing all the major life updates I’ve had since my last post.

  • I had sex with a TC, I, on September 16 at like 1am. Drunk, but not blacked out.
  • I then proceeded to also fuck a PDT, N, on the night of the 21. Well, it was probably early on the 22nd if I’m being honest.
  • My beautiful and sweet 88 year old grandmother, affectionately known as Mimi, passed away in the first week of August. I had to move on the 9th, and between that and other family travel complications, I moved per usual. Then, on the weekend of the 26th, I went back home for the services. It was lovely and filled with family, as she would’ve wanted, but I still miss her dearly.
  • On the 19th I had a sort of episode and flipped out on my brother’s girlfriend, who fucked me over severely, which resulted in me finding a therapist ASAP down here.
  • I found one, Dr. B, and he is possibly the sweetest person I know. I love him and his advice and couldn’t believe I had been missing out on therapy for so long.
  • Because I haven’t been in the best state since moving, I sense that my parents are worried about me and are afraid to make another major life change by divorcing. They continue to lead the same separate lives, like ships passing in the night.
  • I have a deadline of apologizing to my brother’s girlfriend by this Friday, and I haven’t done so yet. Or spoken to her since the 18th of August.
  • A guy who fucked me over at home, MM, texted me today asking if he could see me. HA. No, but it feels good to know that I’m *finally* desirable, ya know? And he’s rushing SC, SN, and KS. We’ll see.
  • I miss home so much. More than I thought I would.
  • I’m trying really hard to do well in school but also sleep and have a social life. So that’s basically just what I’m doing now.

Alright, I have to go. Saturdays in the South… if you know, you know. I’ve missed you, though, and I’ll be back soon.




what i order at a….

At a girls dinner tonight, I realized I often get stuck in a rut of going to the same restaurants over and over. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to try new places and their food, drinks, and ambience. Of course, I rarely regret experimenting, but sometimes it’s just nice to have a few go-tos.

From there, I thought of this post. Everyone has their signature order at any type of restaurants, and these are mine. If you’re curious, here’s what I order at a…

Sushi restaurant: Tempura shrimp rolls and a Japanese salad, which is a specialty at a local place but deserving of a spot.

Pub: A burger and fries.

Salad bar: Spring mix with romaine, cucumbers, carrots, celery, green peppers, radishes, tomato, chickpeas, sunflower seeds, and any sort of citrusy dressing. At my local spot it’s chipotle lime and it couldn’t be better.

Mexican restaurant: Soft shell carnitas.

Italian restaurant: Eggplant parmesan, linguine with any lemon-based sauce, or Bolognese.

Sprinkles: Strawberry or sprinkle cupcake. What dreams are made of.

Chipotle: Chips and guac.

Moe’s: A Close Talker in a hard shell bowl with romaine, chicken, black beans, cucumber, medium salsa, guac, and loads of their Southwest vinaigrette.

Southern restaurant: Chicken and waffles, tomato pie, or anything with jalapeno grits.

Those are really the only types of spots I frequent. I’m not a huge sushi person, but that’s where I was tonight so I added it first.

What are your ride or die orders at any type of restaurant?






three weird things about me

Whenever I do something a little off, which happens quite frequently, I often tell anyone around me that it’s just one of my “things.” They’re just weird things I do and prefer and say.

For example, today I was in the airport bathroom washing my hands. When I had to dry them off, I accidentally stuck them under the dryer because I was distracted. I hate hand dryers. They never do the job and I would rather use paper towels or even sandpaper than a moldy dryer.

I also hate escalators. I don’t know if it’s a fear thing or if I fell off one as a child, but I freak out on an escalator. I hate the moving steps. I hate the idea that it could get stuck. I hate the slow churn of the steps moving up or down. For some reason, it just makes me so anxious.

Lastly, I am straight up neurotic about the noise of plastic-y things like chip bags. The sound of someone squishing up a chip bag or similar makes me shiver all over. I actually got the chills typing that. I have NO idea where it came from or when it started, but I’ve been doing it since as long as I can remember. It makes me so annoyed when people crumple them instead of simply opening them or throwing them out.

After writing this, I feel a little better about how weird I am. These are just some of my “things”, and they’ll probably never not be things.



happy one year!

Today is the one year anniversary of starting this blog!

First and foremost, thank you times a million. I wouldn’t be writing without all of the subscribers, commenters, and readers. I hope that instant blonde is a place where you can come to be inspired, to laugh, and to get a break from whatever you’re going through. You have provided me with more ideas, positivity, and creativity than you’ll ever know. So much has changed in my life since I first started writing in 2015 and I can’t thank you enough for being along for the crazy ride.

Two hundred something posts later, and I’m still here. I know: I’m a complainer, I often contradict myself, I rarely follow my own advice, I make irrational decisions, I pander, I obsess- and I mean obsess- over a lot of guys, and I can’t seem to stick to a posting schedule. Despite all that, I really love blogging and all that it’s helped me through in the past three hundred and sixty-five days.

My goals for the next year? Post more regularly and with better content, stop letting men consume a lot of my worries, find direction for the next four years of my life, and learn how to make one of these all-sprinkle cakes, of course.

[via a]
Hopefully I’ll have a less cliché post up for my two year anniversary. We can only dream.





happy belated to me

With another birthday under my belt, I thought I’d be feeling wiser and excited from the influx of attention, tagged Facebook photos, presents, and Tweets, but, conversely, I’m feeling old as hell.

I don’t know why, but it seemed that the year, not really a milestone of any sort, started off on a particularly depressing note. When I was in the shower not even fifteen minutes into my day of birth, I saw and had to kill a fucking spider. On my birthday. Like, why me God? What have I done to you?!

After I was all relaxed and ready to pass out into a glorious sleep on my starfish sheets, I got a call from my brother, who’s back in town for the time being, needing a ride home from a party. Of course, I would do anything for anyone so long as they don’t have to drunk drive, so I picked him up. He would not answer his phone, so I had to come into the host’s house and retrieve my obliterated older brother on my own god damn birthday. Keep in mind, I had just showered and had wet hair, no makeup, and Nike shorts on, so naturally, the athlete was there too, and of course my brother took 32823 hours finding his belongings and saying goodbye, allowing everyone to see me in my PJs. Great. He was kind enough to repay me, by buying me a Diet Coke at the taco place he forced me to stop at at 2 a.m, though he later spilled it all over the passenger seat of my car when he tried to surreptitiously steal a sip at a red light.

That is how I spent the first three hours of my birthday. It was the fourth, by the way, in case you want to mail me any belated gifts, flowers, or cash. (Email me for my P.O. box.) Let’s hope this isn’t foreshadowing my year ahead and was just getting all of the unfortunate things out of the way!

This year, I want to be as glamorous as Kate Moss at her 25th- and always!…

As elegant as Reese Witherspoon at the 2011 Oscars…

And as toned as Britney’s abs, forever and always.

Cheers to me surviving another year (how?!), and the blondes of Hollywood that have shaped my style, direction, and dreams for many birthdays now.





happy 200th!

EVERYONE! As of May 23rd, I’ve officially posted 200 times on instantblonde!

Despite falling off the train a little bit in April and May, I’m really proud of myself. Writing this blog has always been a dream of mine and I’m so happy that thirty-eight of you like to follow along!

So even though we’re celebrating late, which seems to be a theme around here, it’s still a cause for a party. Pop the champagne, throw the confetti, or dye your hair blue, because it’s all fun!

Actually, just kidding. Most definitely do NOT dye your hair blue. But, if you’re looking to try balayage or take the plunge with a new length, take this as your sign to go for it!

THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for reading, commenting, and inspiring me when I get around to writing. You mean the world!


P.S. Read my 200th post all about the art on Gossip Girl!