I walked into the Roscoe-Rockland Firehouse with a head full of pink on Saturday morning. I walked off with nothing left.
It’s gone. All of it, shaved off by hairstylist Michelle Browne for St. Baldrick’s. This is the sixth time I’ve said goodbye to my hair to help fight childhood cancer. But this time it was different.
For two months I wandered the world with a head that looked like I’d been dipped in a cotton candy machine. The plan was to use it to attract attention for the cause, and to some degree it worked. As late as Friday night I was able to bring in some extra cash to add to the donation pile, and it’s all because the donor had commented on my hair. I’m still behind on donations. I would blame the economy but it may too be apathy. The first time people heard about it they were thrilled; by now they’re a little tired of it.
The first day with it, I felt like a new woman. By Saturday morning, I couldn’t wait to see it go. I’ve let my usually short hair grow for months to ensure the pink really stood out, and it was starting to drive me a little nuts (or should I say nuttier than usual?).
But I have to say I think I’ll miss some of what comes with having pink hair:
1. The comments. First there was the little girl who grabbed at her grandma’s shirt and tried to whisper, “Nana, she looks like Strawberry Shortcake!” Then there was the older couple who stood beside me on the corner of a busy Manhattan street arguing over the exact shade (“No dear, that’s not hot pink, it’s fuschia!). All of them made me grin.
2. The confidence. I’m a mother who works at home all day in front of a computer, and these days it SHOWS. But for the past two months, I was pretty darn sure no one was actually looking at anything on this mom bod … except the top of my head.
3. The talks. For two months, everyone who has had the guts to actually ask me why my hair is pink has gotten an earful on the St. Baldrick’s cause. Considering I went to the biggest convention for bloggers in the country back in August, let me just say that has been a LOT of people!
4. The compliments. Alright, alright, alright! I have to admit it was NICE having total strangers walk up to me just to tell me how much I rock. Wouldn’t you like it?
5. My kid thought I was cool. You don’t get these moments often. You learn to savor them …
But don’t worry, I’m not getting too down about it. I’ve got just as many reasons why I’m glad it’s gone:
1. The dirty looks. Yes, I had pink hair. No, it didn’t change the fact that I’m a law-abiding citizen who has been known to help little old ladies load their groceries into the back of their car and play peek-a-boo with random babies in the restaurant. It’s just hair folks, deal with it!
2. I get my pillowcase back! After two months of sleeping right on the pillow and dealing with that ridiculous tag — hear that? I haven’t removed it! — I can cover up all the pink that bled out with a nice, soft, fresh-out-of-the-dryer pillowcase!
3. The nicknames. A word to the wise: if you see someone with pink hair, chances are she’s heard of Pinky Tuscadero by now … at least 47 times.
4. The comments. I know, I said I loved those,and for the most part, people said things that made me grin. But there were those choice few who can’t seem to wrap their head around the concept of doing something nice for others.
5. I have to meet my daughter’s teacher in a week. Considering it’s a small town, she technically already knows me. And yet … do I really want to be “that” mom on meet the teacher night?
Want to donate on my head to help fight childhood cancer? I haven’t hit my goal yet!!
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