Unfunky

Is there a better way to cure a case of The Funk than a fresh new hairstyle? I suppose an all-expenses-paid tropical escape would do it, or maybe a truckload of new clothes that actually fit me properly and which are not T-shirts.  But for practicality's sake, a wild hair-do will have to...do.  

This rockstar color scheme's appeal to me must be another manifestation of my early mid-life crisis.  To be candid, I do yearn for some aspects of my more carefree youth, I miss my 20-year-old childless body, and sometimes I wish I stood out in a crowd.  The Funk was more than just a gray day, and although it's not entirely gone, at least now my hair has electric purple highlights. 

I try not to say things that aren't truthful.  If a friend shows up in an outfit that I find atrocious, I may sincerely shriek, "I love those shoes!" Greeting a customer with a new, unflattering haircut, I might say, "Hey! You got your hair cut! Short hair will be great this summer when it's hot."  When a mother is showing off a baby that I don't feel particularly compelled to coo and cuddle, perhaps I'd offer a relatable, "Aww, aren't babies fun?"  I just don't like to feign sycophantic praise where it's not heartfelt.  I'll either focus my praise where it is genuine, or make neutral remarks. 

Before you think me a black hearted monster (because I don't lie to my friends, I guess), take note: It has been amusing to recognize how many people follow the same principle when encountering my neon streaks of hair.  Between a small handful of genuine compliments, I have primarily heard observational statements such as:

"Oh! You colored your hair! ... Huh."

"Your hair is purple! ... When did you do that?"

"Is that permanent? ... What made you decide to do that?"

No one dyes his or her hair purple unless wanting to be noticed, but weirdos like us have to understand that not everyone is going to like our weirdness.  There is no doubt that my own mother is not a fan.  But I am having fun with it, and needed a way to enjoy my hair while I commit to growing it out--a process I despise. 

The cherry (or grape? ha ha ha) on top of this little story is that I think I have finally found the hairstylist to whom I want to establish a loyalty, after 9 years of searching. I'll tell you why in an upcoming blog post.