My fifteen year old daughter had a big problem last night. She couldn't figure out if she wanted her hair to stay the blond color I let her dye it at the beginning of the summer, or if she wanted to go darker brown, much darker than her in-between shade of natural.
With a hair appointment looming (roots are coming in OMG) and magazine clippings all over the bed she was begging for me to make the decision for her. All but one of the photos were of different shades of light blond, the one that was different was a deep, dark, brown. Uh oh... time to parent. Crap! I am so exhausted. Can't they just let me feed them and shelter them? Must I do all of this philosophical stuff myself? Yep. I must.
I knew the problem right away. She wants to have dark hair. Dark hair like me. Dark like her younger sisters. She wants dark hair because she loves the color of her eyes (greengreengreen) and she understands that the contrast might make those eyes more luminous. BUT, she already announced to the whole world "Blond I am!" and there are many, many friends who are expecting a tow head on the first day of sophomore year. High school can be a bitch, really. I remember.
I had no choice. I had to pull out the big guns. I try to avoid these, because scripting a life can be dangerous work. One can do damage. One can break trust. But she was moaning I tell you, moaning!
"I like the brown." I said.
"Me too!" (Really? I had NO idea) "Mom, are you sure?"
"Look. Why not be the girl of the many colored locks? Why not dye it brown and if you want to, just dye it back next summer? Hell, announce it to the world! Be that girl who is playful, who tries different things, who allows herself to shift and alter. Be mysterious. Be ever changing."
I could see it working. She liked this chameleon idea. She needed the script adjustment. Battle fought and won. And still....
Yesterday she was a baby, with natural soft brown hair that fell loosely about her shoulders and sparkled in the sunlight. The girl back then didn't' wear dark eyeliner or pink lip gloss, she was shiny and new. I wish I could open up a door and see her and kiss her. And STILL....
How I love the ever changing her. And I can't WAIT to see her in a deep mahogany brown. One, thankfully, we can touch up from a box.