Since I can recall, I’ve always had some color in my hair. It’s been blue, green, purple, red…sometimes all at the same time. I still wear a gorgeous teal color in my dark brown locks, but not right up front all attention whore-y. It’s strategically placed towards the middle third of my head so it blends in swimmingly and if I pull my hair back, you would never tell my hair is colored.
I live in a very fancy part of the country called Fairfield County, CT – also known as, the Gold Coast. It’s the land of extreme wealth and extreme poverty and a LOT of entitlement in both classes. It’s almost as if this little sliver of the state should just get sold off to NYC because we’re basically considered a suburb of NY. A huge, rich, angry, densely populated, intercontinental, expensive suburb of NY. Hell, even Craigslist doesn’t include Fairfield County in CT state. It’s part of NYC.
BUT I DIGRESS.
I get this a lot:
“I love your hair. Wish I could do that.”
“I would never be able to pull that off. I wish.”
and yesterday, from an older girl, maybe 17? “I like your hair. Not a lot of moms around here would do that.”
My question to you is this: WHY NOT? Whose life is it anyway? Your husband’s? Your kids? Your coworkers? Your priests? Therapists? Your Parents? Who wakes up in your day, breathes with your lungs, thinks with your brains, PEES INTO YOUR TOILET? Is it God? Is it the president?
I realize some of you reading this may have obstacles like your parents or bosses. I don’t have an answer to this without getting into a lengthy rambling diatribe I’m to lazy to embark on at 8 in the morning.
I hate implied societal norms. It will kill your self-esteem for a lifetime. So, why wish?
