Pink Hair: Is it too much?

I’ve been feeling the need lately for a place to catalogue my ongoing identity crisis! Or at least, an ongoing struggle to find balance between youth and adulthood, freedom and commitment, nonconformism and establishment, my needs and my family’s needs. Anyone out there in the same boat? I mean, I know all mothers have a tough job, and the classic term “work/life balance” describes something that most of us think of the way we think of unicorns: beautiful but nonexistent.

But I’m also talking about this issue of identity: how I define myself and how the world sees me. How do I find balance there? How do I feel like I’m letting my true self have her say in this modern suburban life? For years I’ve watched my mother, a natural intellectual and free-spirit, finding harmony in a conservative religion and establishment lifestyle. Now I realize how challenging that must have been at times. (Then again, she has a lot more wisdom and grace than I do!)

I see myself as an artsy, creative type; but I have a husband and little boy who need me to be practical, consistent and dependable. Can you be artsy and creative without being flaky and capricious? Can you be practical, consistent and dependable without being boring and conformist? Well… that’s what I’m aiming for.

So, to lower this conversation from a big, existential question to a small shallow one: is it too weird to have pink hair at my age and in my life? I’m in need of a new look and I have to admit, I think the pastel hair trend is cute and funky and cool. But can I pull it off or will I just look like a crazy old lady who doesn’t know her place in the world? Is it one of those trends that is cute and funky and cool at twentysomething but not-so-cute with wrinkles? (Like tattoos or a micro mini skirt.)

Me at a Halloween party a few years ago. Guess I’ve been toying with the colored-hair idea for a while!

We went to a wedding a few months ago, finding a seat in the church beside old friends and saying a quick hello as the wedding started. Turning my attention forward, I saw that the woman directly in front of me had lavender hair. This was a very conservative crowd of people mostly in their thirties and forties, so I was immediately curious. I couldn’t see her face or judge her age, but the man sitting with her was the textbook definition of a normal middle-aged man with the same basic suit and haircut that every other male in the church was wearing. Was she his daughter? His mid-life crisis younger woman? When she finally turned her head, I was surprised to see that she was about the same age as her companion. Surprised, but not disapproving. In fact I thought it was pretty cool. And I imagined, “That normal looking guy with her must be a little cooler than I thought, too.”

Before we had a baby, my husband used to say, “Sure, it’s fine to have orange hair but once you have a kid, you can’t show up at PTA meetings like that- it will embarrass him.” Is that true? Does that depend on how we raise him, or his own natural personality? If it is true, should I get this out of my system while Baby O is still a toddler and (presumably) too young to be embarrassed by me?

I seem to be having trouble accepting my age; on the other hand my husband scolds me when I start moaning about all my aging joints and acting like an old lady. He’s not as big on admitting/giving in to the ravages of age. I can see how the more you talk like that the more you believe it and just become a creaky old senior citizen. Running around after a toddler all day, I can’t afford to become a senior citizen just yet!

Back to the original question, though: do I have what it takes to wear crazy colored hair? I’m not sure. I think I might feel too self-conscious to enjoy it… thinking I’m being judged for all the reasons I’ve just listed.

“Oh Jeez,” you must be thinking, “Just shut up and do it already! Or don’t. Who cares? It’s just hair!”

See… that’s why I’m writing this. It helps me get some perspective. Like I’m turning into a third person reading my own words and realizing how ridiculous they are. Well, it’s good to be able to laugh at yourself, right? In reality, I signed up for this life I’m living. I am a suburban mom; that’s the truth. But like Jack Nicholson said, I can’t handle the truth. My husband once told me that my greatest fear is being thought of as a soccer mom (or whatever the current mom stereotype is called.) Is that true? What should I do about it?