PB&J: One-Year Pinkiversary

A lot is striking me as funny this morning, not so much funny-ha-ha as funny-amazing, funny-cool, funny-great.  

It's my One-Year Pink-iversary.

Funny-amazing like the fact that it was exactly a year ago that my darling Nicole talked me into pink hair.  "Talked me into" is strong language. I fell over easily.   So that when considering what to do with my hair yesterday, the question of pink was a no-brainer -- me and pink hair go together, as she put it, like peanut butter and jelly, an obvy delicious combo.  Doy, of course!

And I'm feeling Happily Semi-Rad.

Whenever I wear this semi-rad shirt, I always feel 100% rad.  That's how much I love it. 

I was musing this morning, when headed out the door in shirtsleeves for a hike with my beloved pup, that I am a bit of a spectacle sometimes, a clown in a way, cruising down the street with fresh pink locks, sleeved up.  I remember how my mother said, when I was 26 and excited about a new pair of red high-top Converse, that those weren't shoes a mother should wear. Or how she proclaimed me to be her technicolor daughter when, younger, I had a headful of blackcherry hair, multiple colorful bracelets, whatever my get-up at the time was.

I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way.

Still, I admit to a small moment of hesitation.  Should I re-pink my hair?  After all, it doesn't last long, really. It fades so sadly fast. And I think we're still miles away from a magic pill or tea that would make my hair grow this color straight out of my own head.  Which is something I honestly dream of, especially now that I've become obsessed with the second work in Karen Russell's crazy, fantastic Vampires in the Lemon Grove: Stories.

But the pink hair fits me.  It keeps me -- or at least it feels that way -- from getting too set in my ways, too serious in my dotage. It keeps me silly, it keeps me from frump.  I'm told it expresses me somehow, my nature, and so I'll stick with it, if for no other reason than a visual reminder, every time a pinked curl swings into my line of sight, that sure, I get older and maybe that means I just get bolder.

Semi-rad til I die. Pink hair forever.

Smile on my face and everything's great.

XX