(the girls and I exploring hats)
My girls adore my hair. They love it pink and no other style but spiky will do for them (okay I may have to keep changing it if they are stuck on this one hair color and style). To them, I am spectacular and unique and there is something so incredible about that kind of unconditional love and support that makes my conflicted feelings feel wrong.
To be fair, I have never had a person come up to me and make fun of me. All I've ever received is compliments. But I've seen those looks, looks that a decade ago I would not have noticed, having trained myself to ignore strangers when Bobby and I were out and a meltdown happened. I learned not to notice, not to see, not to engage. But as a teacher who often sees her former and current students out and about, I've learned to look around again, and that means I sometimes run across those snickers by strangers...
It takes me a moment, but then I'll catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror in the store I'm in and even I take a second look. It always takes a moment. It's me. I'm always surprised by how neon my hair is. I have a strong hunch I really have no idea just how bright my plumage is. And, on balance, I think that's a good thing most of the time. After all, how many people get surprised by their reflections when they are out and about?
Making funny faces at the camera.
And I wonder why I get double-takes?
Embracing our silliness.