Blue Hair

I have blue hair, thanks to a challenge to the kids and youth of our church. We said, 'Raise $600 for camp and Pastor Lore will dye her hair a crazy color.' They raised over $1000. What else could I do?

With deep thanks to Craig, my hair stylist and fellow Christ-follower, who donated time and hair dye to the cause, I can only describe what happened after the goo was rinsed out. It came out sort of black with bright blue and purple highlights. Definitely not the most attractive look. To me, I look like an Osborne. Or a goth with brown roots. My son said, "Mommy, don't come to my class and volunteer this week."

I wonder if other people look at me differently. Do they think I'm wilder, crazier, or just a sad middle-aged woman trying to recapture her youth?

On a walk with the dog, coming through an opening in the trees onto the busy road, it occurred to me that I might be a little more threatening. Would someone call the cops on me for trespassing? I didn't worry about it at all when my hair was brown.

At the restaurant on Mothers' Day, the young hostess complimented me sincerely. But the father of my son's friend looked at me oddly when he stopped to help me with a flat tire. Another friend asked, 'Did you lose a bet?' and took my picture with her cell phone.

Funny. All I did was dye my hair blue. I'm the same person, right? It's only hair, right? It doesn't reflect what's inside, right?

So why the sudden urge to go buy a motorcycle and sing 'Born to Be Wild' at the top of my lungs?

Some things mystify me, even about myself.