The Impermanence of Permanent Pink & Other Colors

Some might call it a mid-life crisis hair choice, but I like to think of it as a pre-chemo-what-the-hell-I'm-going-to-lose-my-hair-in-January-anyway hair choice.

Either way, it got me carded at Trader Joe's this afternoon, which is probably more due to the fact that 42 year old women don't usually dye their hair pink, but whatever. I'll take it. A cart full of Fuji apples, caramel soy ice cream and a no way from the checkout guy who I made blush with my downright cougar-y gratitude.

Zoey, of course, wanted to dye her hair, too, and I decided to let her because we are on this adventure together. That's what I keep saying, that this is an adventure. It's going to be strange, I tell the kids, there might be parts that are scary or just plain weird, but that's ok, because we are in it together. And they look at me and ask for a snack.

Zoey chose blue. Of course now I kinda wish I had gone blue, but who knows? Maybe I will in a few weeks. Or dye it black. I've always wanted to have black hair and wear red lipstick. There is a freedom to staring down the barrel of bald.

The thing is, I've already beat MS. It's gone. I don't have it. It's just a hiccup in the space/time continuum that I actually do have MS right now, because in a few months? By February? I won't. Which means I don't now, in a way, held back only by the constraints of time. Those are the kind of deep dude thoughts people with pink hair have...

Xo,

S