Recently, I took an e-course. One that made me push my limits and step out of my comfort zone, it was exactly what I needed. I feel like my writing is terrible and that I have a hard time getting my feelings onto
paper screen. One of my New Year’s resolutions was to work on my writing skills. So when I stumbled upon this course, I knew that it was right for me. It forced me to take a good hard look at myself, relationships that I have with others, and how I interact in my world.
One of the assignments was to think about what our alter egos would be like. What would that women look like? What would she do? How would she behave? I spent a lot of time thinking about what the other version of myself would be like.
She would be confident and witty.
She would be fearless and carefree.
She would not worry about what the other moms in the pick up lane think of her.
She would be more outgoing.
She would exercise more.
She would not wear mom clothes.
She would have pink hair.
I have wanted pink hair since I saw Gwen Stefani’s pink tipped hair a lifetime ago. I was teaching at a very conservative middle school in South Carolina when I first fell in love with it, and pink hair just would not fly at my job. I thought about doing it over the summer and either lost my nerve, or realized that I would have to cut off most of my hair to get it back to brown. You see, for me to do this would be a commitment. One that I was never sure that I was worthy of. If you ever met me in real life, I am about the last person on the planet to sport a head full of pink. I wear a cardigan almost every day of my life. I am not what one would call “edgy”. I am a mother. A wife. A military wife. I volunteer. I go to church. Pink hair does not really belong in these roles that I also wear.
Flash back to a few months ago. My husband has always known of my love affair with pink hair and he urged me to do it. It is easy for a guy to say, especially one that doesn’t even have any hair. It is a process. I thought about doing a few strands in the back that can be hidden for when I need to be responsible looking. To get pink streaks, I would have to bleach out my almost black hair and then dye it pink, and repeat the process every few months or cut it off when I bored of it. If you have ever bleached really dark hair, you know that it takes forever and turns sort of orangey if not done correctly.
My friend Kelli who does my hair introduced me to hair feathers. You know, the ones that every tween in the world is wearing right now. I got some and they are really fun. Pink and black and white feathers are intermixed with my dark hair. They are really fun and I fell in love with them. More than that, I fell in love with how I felt with them. Guess what? I was meeting my alter ego. Who is this person that is willing to add some pink to her long, all-one-length, all-one-color, boring as all hell hair? ME! After a day or so, I wanted more. I called Kelli and told her that I needed some more pink in my life. She told me that she was expecting my call. She knew that pink hair would suit me. She had the brilliant idea to add pink hair extensions. She ordered some, and had her friend Jaime put them in. I will not lie, it sort of hurt, but beauty (my grandmother might argue this with me, but I think that pink tresses can be beautiful) is pain, right?
So 45 minutes later, I had tasteful pink strands peeking through my jet black hair and I could not be happier about it. It is not a ton of pink, but there is enough that I get a glimpse of it in the mirror and it makes me smile. It reminds me that it is okay to step out of my comfort zone every now and again. The beauty of this is that they are not permanent. I can take them out when I am ready, and they should last for at least 2 months if not longer. I was so scared of being someone that I am not. I was scared of what people would think when they saw me be a different version of myself. I thought my children would be embarrassed to have a mother with crazy hair pick them up from school. They love it. No one seemed to really pay attention. And if they did, they kindly didn’t say anything about it to my face. I am feeling braver. More confident. Turns out, pink really is my color.