Today, I did something drastic. Something brave. Something extraordinary.
Today, I dyed my hair turquoise and green.
It's the first time in my life I've ever dyed all of my hair a crazy color. One more item off the bucket list. And it felt like freedom.
As kid, and even as a teen/young adult, I was never allowed to dye my hair. It was "unnatural." As my mother put it, "If God meant for you to have [insert color] hair, he would have given it to you." Even once I got into college, it took everything I had to work up the courage to dye my bangs red. I remember hiding it under a scarf for a mother-daughter luncheon shortly after it was first done.
So, tonight, as I worked color in, one glob at a time, as I watched my hair transcend from dark brown to golden honey to bright aqua and electric lime, as I pressed the colors into each strand, careful to saturate every inch, I felt myself becoming more and more free. More and more the manic pixie I've always wanted to be.
Tonight, I realized, the colors I chose are symbolic, whether I realized it or not. The shining aqua and green have come to symbolize freedom to me. These colors are not only the first unnatural colors I've put in my hair - they are so much more.
They are the Wicked Witch of the West, the first time my parents allowed me to do something magic-related, and the role for which I won Best Actress my senior year of high school. They are my sheets and blankets my first night away at college, finally starting to escape the hold of my family. They are my first D&D character, a pixie named Navi, who lives in a forest. They are the christmas lights I hung around my bunk to scare away the anxiety when I was diagnosed with a panic disorder. They are the journal I sobbed into when I realized what my parents had done to me. They are the sky above, and the ground below, and all the infinities in between.
And they were our wedding colors. They were my bouquet, as I walked down the aisle toward the love of my life. They were my father's eyes, as he gave his blessing - not gave me away, as if I were his property. They were my husband's vest and tie, as we held scraps of paper with trembling fingers and tried to speak our vows, rather than sob them. They were the reflection of the altar in the silver rings we exchanged. They were the foil stars hanging from the ceiling, and the cheap plastic tablecloths spread under pizza. They were the striped napkins, and the paper streamers, and the amazing cake made by my mother in law, and everything that made that wedding perfect.
Because somehow, in binding myself to my husband, for the first time, I became free. No longer was I my father's property, bound to do as he commanded. "My house, my rules." Despite assurances that in my future biblical marriage, I was to submit to my husband, I found myself eternally bound to one who calls himself "partner,"rather than "master," and I could not be more grateful.
So, tonight, as the color dripped from my hair, soaking the shower floor in broken hearts and broken promises, long lost to time, I embraced this freedom. I dried my newly colored locks, opened wide the bathroom door, and was heartily embraced by a husband who loves me, with a silly grin on my face, and freedom colors in my hair.
Today, I dyed my hair turquoise and green.
It's the first time in my life I've ever dyed all of my hair a crazy color. One more item off the bucket list. And it felt like freedom.
As kid, and even as a teen/young adult, I was never allowed to dye my hair. It was "unnatural." As my mother put it, "If God meant for you to have [insert color] hair, he would have given it to you." Even once I got into college, it took everything I had to work up the courage to dye my bangs red. I remember hiding it under a scarf for a mother-daughter luncheon shortly after it was first done.
So, tonight, as I worked color in, one glob at a time, as I watched my hair transcend from dark brown to golden honey to bright aqua and electric lime, as I pressed the colors into each strand, careful to saturate every inch, I felt myself becoming more and more free. More and more the manic pixie I've always wanted to be.
Tonight, I realized, the colors I chose are symbolic, whether I realized it or not. The shining aqua and green have come to symbolize freedom to me. These colors are not only the first unnatural colors I've put in my hair - they are so much more.
They are the Wicked Witch of the West, the first time my parents allowed me to do something magic-related, and the role for which I won Best Actress my senior year of high school. They are my sheets and blankets my first night away at college, finally starting to escape the hold of my family. They are my first D&D character, a pixie named Navi, who lives in a forest. They are the christmas lights I hung around my bunk to scare away the anxiety when I was diagnosed with a panic disorder. They are the journal I sobbed into when I realized what my parents had done to me. They are the sky above, and the ground below, and all the infinities in between.
And they were our wedding colors. They were my bouquet, as I walked down the aisle toward the love of my life. They were my father's eyes, as he gave his blessing - not gave me away, as if I were his property. They were my husband's vest and tie, as we held scraps of paper with trembling fingers and tried to speak our vows, rather than sob them. They were the reflection of the altar in the silver rings we exchanged. They were the foil stars hanging from the ceiling, and the cheap plastic tablecloths spread under pizza. They were the striped napkins, and the paper streamers, and the amazing cake made by my mother in law, and everything that made that wedding perfect.
Because somehow, in binding myself to my husband, for the first time, I became free. No longer was I my father's property, bound to do as he commanded. "My house, my rules." Despite assurances that in my future biblical marriage, I was to submit to my husband, I found myself eternally bound to one who calls himself "partner,"rather than "master," and I could not be more grateful.
So, tonight, as the color dripped from my hair, soaking the shower floor in broken hearts and broken promises, long lost to time, I embraced this freedom. I dried my newly colored locks, opened wide the bathroom door, and was heartily embraced by a husband who loves me, with a silly grin on my face, and freedom colors in my hair.
No comments:
Post a Comment