"Er... her pubic hair?"
"No, idiot. In public."
"Her armpits?"
"Nope. Eyebrows."

And so the scales fell from my eyes and I saw the world anew. All week blondes have passed me by and I've been doing my own statistical research. Out of 87 blondes exiting Tesco's in Milngavie over 20 minutes, all but five had brown or black eyebrows, thus revealing that the identity of Scottish women, like everything else in this country, comes out of a bottle – in this case peroxide.

The question that's bothering me is this: if being blonde is associated with being a bimbo, why the hell would so many women want to fake it?

I was a real blonde myself, not a bimbo or bombshell but as an infant. With my long flowing curls I was endlessly subjected to grown-ups playing with my hair, telling me how cute I was. So cute, in fact, that my mother couldn't bring herself to cut my long golden curls, so everyone in primary school assumed I was a girl – a very pretty girl who everyone seemed to have the right to touch.

Rumour has it that my mother wept on the day that I asserted my right to be the sex I was born and demanded she shear me. Her tears hitting the floor with each scissored lock. Perhaps that's what fuels my concern here – how is it that on the one hand we associate blonde hair with childhood innocence and on the other with ignorance and sluttish behaviour? Where did it all start, this idea that blondes are stupid and ripe for exploitation?

Perhaps it was 2,000 years back with the Romans and Greeks. Being olive-skinned black-haired peoples they viewed the fair-haired Germanic and Scandinavian tribes beyond their borders as barbarians. Or maybe it was the middle ages – with peasants working the fields having their hair bleached by the sun. Put these together and you get blondes as savages and serfs.

As for the idea that blondes are loose, cheap women, maybe this started at the turn of the century with the cost of hair dye. Back then it was affordable only by the rich elite and movie stars. As there were then fewer real blondes, it being a recessive gene, it became a way to stand out and be noticed. Rich men picked blondes as trophy wives, and so aspirant non-blondes reached for the bottle to climb the ladder. When hair dye became cheaper in the decades that followed, poorer girls could then aspire to be blondes, so by the Sixties the party scene filled up with golden-locked, gold-digging fakers.

As for blondes being air-heads, if you put all the above together you get the accumulated image of the blonde as a savage, poverty-stricken, pre-pubescent prostitute who fuels some sadistic male fantasy of control. Any woman who would want to buy into that image by purchasing a bottle of peroxide could only be dangerously stupid.

Ladies, I ask you. Given that the fake blondes now outnumber everyone else on the streets of Scotland, surely the only way to stand is to go anti-blonde. Even the real blondes out there should be reaching for their hair dye, to go darker.

It's time to do as I did when I took that stand against my mother – shave off the golden curls.