Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Rapunzel Phenomenon

People always ask me what my natural hair color is. It's like they know not to ask my weight or age (except for teenagers; they ask any and everything), but, people in general, they don't know that natural hair color is also off limits. Not that I don't want to tell them. It's just that, honestly, I don't really know the answer. Seriously...


This is a picture of Leo and me at his preschool graduation in May of 2011.
I've been a blonde for as long as I can remember (with the exception of the short time I spent as a redhead after a break up that left me needing a change). Even when I was a kid, I remember my mom spraying on the Sun-in right before I went outside to play all day in the summer. So, in my mind and its memories (and my mom's too), I'm a natural blonde. Well, at least I was until lately.

On the day the world was supposed to end...yep, 12/21/12...I decided to do something that I would never in a million years do if I hadn't thought we could all potentially die. Because I'm a big fan of puns and silly jokes, I decided it'd be fun to go dark, to dye my hair. My joke was, "Something has to dye today. If it isn't all of humanity, it might as well be my hair." I don't know if anyone else appreciated it, but it didn't matter to me. 

Once the whole process was over at The Studio, and I was a medium brunette, with dyed eyebrows even, people spoke honestly to me about their previous feelings regarding my blond hair. My mother said, "You just looked so washed out before."Yeah, thanks for telling me. My husband, whom I was worried would get upset, said, "I'm glad you did it. I've been thinking you should. Once again, thanks for telling me. While everyone who saw me were fans of the change, I knew my kids would have a difficult time adjusting. They, like everyone else in my life, had only ever known me as a blonde, a fake one at that. Most people, though, knew it was fake. My kids thought, well, part of my identity as their mother was wrapped up in my hair color. Would they accept me? I wondered, obviously too damn late. To say that they most certainly did not accept me at first would be an understatement. They didn't know me, didn't like me, basically didn't want to have anything to do with me. 

My son got used to it even though he didn't really like it. My daughter, however, had a rather difficult time adjusting.

At first, she started with the obvious question: "But, where is your golden hair?"

"Gone," I said.

"Is it because you got it cut?" I think she figured that, like Rapunzel in Tangled, I got it cut, which logically results in brown hair. I mean, if it happened in an animated movie, of course it could happen in real life.

"Yep," I lied. I don't know why; I just did.  

"Well, I want it back. Now!" 

"It's gone, though. It changed." 

"Will it turn back to golden when it grows some?"

"Nope." In hindsight, I should've continued to lie to her and told her yes. 

Wanna know why? Because bad things started happening to the brunette Barbies in our house. At first, they all got haircuts...like the Pixie kind. Only, she hid them when she was done. I couldn't find them anywhere; all I could find were piles of brown hair underneath her bed. At first, I thought they were our cats napping. As I got closer though, I realized a few things...well, one, that Barbies have a lotta damn hair; two, my daughter had too many Barbies; and three, Where in the hell was I when she was doing this? How much time does something like this take?  Oh, and I also realized that this was her way of showing me how much she hated my new hair color.

When I confronted her about the location of her brunette Barbies, she told me she buried them in the sand, that they died. I got the feeling then that my hair was in danger, but I disregarded it. I shouldn't have because, not long after that, she took to decapitating her brunette Disney princesses. Poor Belle was the first to lose her head...literally. She pulled it right off and threw it away. It definitely got my attention and made me reconsider going back to blond for a second or two. And, I slept with one eye open after that. But, I wasn't going back to the light side. I discovered that it's brunettes who have more fun, not blondes. I think the brunettes got together and made up the "Blondes have more fun" myth so they could have their hair color all to themselves. I began to wonder if there really were any natural blondes out there in the world.

This is a picture of Harlan and me at her preschool graduation in May of 2013.
I remember the day my daughter got on the I-like-brunettes train. We were locked out of our house one evening in early May and sitting on the front porch steps waiting for the boys to get home. She cocked her head to one side, stared at me for several seconds, and then said, "Mommy, I like your dawwk hair."  

"You do, do you?" I was suspicious; I thought it was a trick.

"Yep, and ya wanna know somethin', Mommy?" I cringed because I had no idea what to expect to come out of her mouth. "God's girlfriend has dawk hair too...just like yours.  And I love hers." 

"Oh really. When did you see her?" With Harlan, ya just have ta go with it. There's no point in doing otherwise.

"When I was at Justin Bieber's house." Yep, no lie. She's convincing too. "Now, I want dawk brown hair," she said. "OK Mommy?"

At that point, I was on the phone with her daddy and was too distracted to know exactly what she was saying. So, I do what I always do when I'm in this situation. I answered with, "Sure honey."

"So I can get my hair cut Mommy, and it'll turn dawk brown too? Will it Mommy?"

I should've been listening, but I was trying to hear step-by-step instructions on how to break into my own house. "Yep, honey, it will."

"Yay! I wanna go get it cut tomorrow, Mommy. OK?"

"OK baby," I said.

If I'd only been listening to her...



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