It has taken me a long time to not only reach this conclusion, but to admit it to myself. This may even sound shallow or inconsequential to you. It surprises me how long it took me to fully admit to myself the reasoning behind what I’m about to talk about.
Yes. My hair.
I have been coloring my hair pink for three and a half years, if you were not aware.
It has taken me almost that long to recognize that the reason I did it was not solely for a scifi and comic book convention. It was mostly for camouflage.
At the time I originally dyed my hair pink, my chest had healed badly and I was deformed. I wanted to do something radical; something that affirmed that even though i was this misshapen, subhuman thing, I was still alive. So I did it. I bleached my hair and dyed it bright pink. While the goal was to do something daring, I realized only about 6-9 months ago that I also dyed my hair as a means of camouflage.
Yes, the pink drew lots of attention. However, while I was silently screaming “LOOK AT ME!!!”, it was more along the lines of “LOOK AT MY HEAD! IGNORE MY CHEST! LOOK AT MY HEAD AND IGNORE THE FACT THAT MY SHIRT FITS WEIRD!!!
So now you know the REAL reason I have pink hair. I was using it as a distraction the same way a magician might use misdirection for a magic trick. The thing is that I have been doing it so long, it’s a part of my identity. I can’t change my hair without having an impact on my life. I don’t WANT to change my hair. It really is a part of who I am now.
But sometimes…just sometimes… I remember why I really did it and it saddens me… Just a little.