Da Ba Dee Da Ba Daa?*
Not mentally, I'm pretty cheerful today in fact. No, I mean literally.
After two years of sticking to strictly “normal” hair experimentation, I finally cracked : called a friend, handed over cash, sat for far too long in bleach fumes, and walked out of the salon looking like the offspring of a drunken Amazon and a peacock.
I've always done odd things off and on to my personal appearance. I've been a blond, a brunette, a red-haired lass, and have done the raven temptress for the last few years. Frankly, at this point I'm not sure what color my hair is under all the assorted gunk I've thrown on it – even my roots come in with differing colors (season, sunshine, heck – even mood has been known to switch my genetic levers and mess with my hair and eye color.). I've streaked it with purple, tried a few weeks with hot pink tips, and had an unfortunate spate of green following a blond attempt mixed unwisely with a job at a pool. I'm blessed with obscenely massive amounts of hair, and genes good enough to mean its pretty much always healthy. Thus... when boredom strikes, the hair is the first to fall. I figure worse case scenario, I might have to chop off a foot or so - it hit the waistband of my jeans a month or two ago... so its not like I wouldn't still HAVE a ton of hair.**
But past experiments with colors not found in nature notwithstanding... what would make a 28-year old housewife choose to make such an odd change?
A few reasons... the first is simple, as is the second. Blue is my favorite color, wearing it makes me happy. So – easy call there. The secondary reason that the Prime Geek gets a goofy smile on his face when he contemplates having a “Blue Haired Chick” for a wife is a bonus as well.
Harmless and transitory, all make it seem like a grand idea for the summer. Toss in working the odd gaming and Ren Faire events and there are even good business practices involved in the call as well.
But... there are two other reasons that motivate my choices to amp up my appearance. First, well, we've covered the height and the busty issue in the past. By coloring my hair an eye-catching color I get to pick what folks stare at first. When the follicles are taking the brunt of the attention, I get far fewer “Hey, you're really tall! Did you know that?”*** or “Are those REAL?****” and the eyes tend to stay pretty elevated.
Secondly? Call it an overwhelming desire to mess with people's perceptions. This nerd is a chameleon who can switch in and out of social situations with relative ease. What I consider my everyday closet, many folks would view as a costuming room for a movie set. I hang out with the nerd and the geeks, mix it up with the preps and the jocks, can slide in with the earth mommas and the techies. I grew up around bikers and business men, suits and street-rats, and the odd governmental official. I hate getting lumped into a set box, and refuse to answer to most labels. Why limit myself?
Far too often people make quick judgments and snap decisions based on nothing more then the cut of a suit or a color of hair. My first intense brush with this was when, at 21, I had added some vivid purple streaks to my black hair. While out running an errand for my mother I came up against a wall of stupidity and malice that took my breath away. I had just opened a door for an elderly women ahead of me when the sun came out from behind a mass of clouds causing the purple to shine in the bright sun. The women stopped thanking me for being a “nice girl” who opened the door for me, and began to curse me out thoroughly. The terms “Slut, nasty, shame to my parents, and better for all if my kind would die so I could hurry up and burn in hell” came out of this vitriolic old women.
I stood there, stunned. Mouth open, frankly gaping, my mind attempted to reboot and got a guttural “What?!?” forced out of my then dry throat. She pointed at my head (ignoring the long skirt, modest button down blouse, and earlier help) as though she had made a triumphant point and rushed away.
I stood there for a moment and watched this women as she scuttled down the street and realized I had but three options. Sink to the street and sob (immediately followed by an emergency trip to the salon and a meeting with a dye bottle), get angry and rush after the odd biddy - shaking her until her teeth rattled (and then explaining to the police what I was doing holding her upside down and shrieking “Show me in the bible where purple is a sin!”), or make the life altering decision to say to hell with what people say and be happy with who I am and stick to it as loud and as proud as I want to be.
You've read some of my work... guess which way this nerd went? From then to now, seven years, I've made it a day to day point to interject a little bit of the odd into people's lives. To show you can be this... AND be that. I can be a nice girl... and a touch ornery. I can be green... and still be blue. I can say what I think is right, and listen to other ideas. Use a touch of chaos to help recreate a new sense of order. So... today is blue day, and a happy one at that.
I've gotten a bit stagnant lately, working a little too hard to be a good housewife, a good writer, a good... whatever. I've gotten a bit lost in what people's perceptions of me are, and now I'm reconnecting with that slightly ornery, sometime trouble making, rabble rousing, babbling bard (who will confuse, confound, but bring you cookies while you try to regroup) deep inside.
A new page is turning, and I think this next chapter is getting written in bright blue.*****
Pictures perhaps in the evening.
*Eiffel 65. Pat yourself on the back if you got the reference.
** Please don't tell me I should donate it. Too much dye to give it away, and I do my charity work in other ways. Thanks anyway.
*** No. Really? Thank God! I thought everyone else was shrinking!
**** These? No, I'm just holding on to them for a friend.
***** And this concludes a post that had absolutely nothing to do with the blog's main thrust, just something I'm working through in my head.