Yep, I dyed my hair…again

Middle of the night, whole house asleep, and there’s me, with a box of hair dye in my hand…again.  I’m not sure what it is, a love of color, a desire to experiment, a way to shake myself out of a rut…like if I look different, perhaps I’ll be different.

Anywho, I’ve always wanted to have wierd colorful hair.  But first there was grad school, then teaching high school, then professional life, each time I had to live up to some external expectation of who I was and what I was about.

But the other night I realized, “What the heck?  If I don’t like it, I can dye it brown.”  And I took the plunge.  (Splat!, Luschious Raspberry.)

I am loving having pink hair!  At first I was afraid the new look would alienate folks.  But you know, it’s just the opposite.  I seem to be way more approachable and friendly now.  All kinds of people are coming up and talking to me, and little kids just grin.

And I take myself a lot less seriously.  It’s like I’ve thrown my dignity away, and good riddance.  Publically declaring myself an artsy-fartsy wierdo, seems to be exactly what I should be doing at the moment.

And besides, I think the color becomes me.  (Or at least, I match my camera. ;> )

Fuschia Hair

Kai’s comment when he saw me, “Mama!  Your hair’s fuschia!”  I love that kid.  Six years old and he’s already got a rich color vocabulary.

P.S. I’m not stoned, I swear!  I just got back from the eye doctor’s and my eyes are still dilated.

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