Why you should care
Because MollyAnn opens a portal into her mind. And it’s funny in there.
Her overt blondness grabs your attention. Then her big blue eyes start looking around, as if she is actively searching for a profound thought. When she catches one, she looks into her phone camera, eyes wide, and in a slow, measured Southern drawl, cranks up the crazy choo choo and explains that thought as if it’s the most amazin’ friggin’ thing you’ve ever heard.
Her name is MollyAnn Wymer and her goal is to “keep it really real, like really, really real.”
And she just exudes realness, in a very blond kind of way. She is so blond, her blondness almost seems a given, like, of course, sure, she is blond, duh. She often seems a tad confused, like when she discovered cookies-and-cream-flavored Oreos. “Oreos are cookies and cream,” she says into the camera, imploringly. “Why do they have to make it more complicated?”
Perhaps it’s not shocking to learn MollyAnn is an internet sensation. She boasts about 250,000 Facebook followers and something like 2 million YouTube views — a loyal following eager for updates on MollyAnn’s trials and tribulations.
In one post, she describes going to an Amway meeting and getting inspired by the group’s fervor against poverty. Sign me up, she says earnestly. “I’m tired of zoning out and walking around Walmart like Walmartians,” she says. “I want to buy expensive groceries. I want to go to Whole Foods and get some organic pizza rolls for my children.” She embraced the “poor cleansing” cream. “I bought 23 bottles of this,” she explains. “I want to be set free from the spirit of poor.”
Trying to explain MollyAnn’s appeal can be tough. Maybe it’s because we all know a MollyAnn. They are in our yoga classes. We date them.
MollyAnn Wymer is the creation of Molly Wymer, who added the “Ann” for her online persona, because, hey, it just seemed right. Wymer, 39, is a single mother of five kids in Greensboro, North Carolina, who calls herself “an accidental comedian.” “All of a sudden I was funny, and I never knew that,” she says.
On the phone, she sounds, well, normal. But moving into MollyAnn is not hard. “It’s like there is a switch in my brain,” she says. “If I let her talk, she just does.”
Her first video, which she made for her friends two years ago, is a long, thoughtful explanation of her discovery of Dramamine, which she decided was a pill to control her drama. “I feel my drama coming on, and I take this little pill and my drama is contained,” she says. “It’s all mine.”
MollyAnn is walking in the shaky high heels of a long line of ditzy blonds, from Marilyn Monroe to Anna Faris. Like her predecessors, MollyAnn is sincere, relentlessly sincere, and unafraid to confront the world.
In one video she talks about going to a gun store and asking the clerk for a “protection gun,” not a “murder gun.” “He looked at me like I’d been hit with the stupid stick too many times,” she explained, shocked. That prompted this headline from a gun site: “Hot blond trolls pro-gunners.”
MollyAnn’s primary income these days is selling health and wellness products. She is also booking gigs as a motivational speaker, helping people find their voice and pull through difficult times. A few weeks ago, she did stand-up for the first time in a 300-seat theater, opening for Jon Reep in High Point, North Carolina.
It went “surprisingly well,” she says.
Trying to explain MollyAnn’s appeal can be tough. Maybe it’s because we all know a MollyAnn, or somebody vaguely close to MollyAnn. They are our baristas. They are in our yoga classes. We date them. Or maybe you are thinking of writing a New Yorker essay explaining the media victimization of the classic blond in the modern media age. Who cares?
She pops up, you click. You can’t help it. Those eyes get going and three minutes of your life are gone. No regrets. And maybe you learn a little something about life in MollyAnn’s world.