A mother and her daughter's hair

First I'll start by saying, when my own mother decided to let her hair go natural (in other words white) I had a melt down. I did not want her to change her image in any way, shape or form. To this day, I do not know what I was afraid of, but the whole prospect of the color of my mother's hair changing made me very nervous.


I've always had a thing about my daughters and their hair. I think in this area of their lives I bordered on neurotic (others may say, I've always been a bit neurotic, but we won't go there).

The first time I really had to let go of the hair neurosis was when I was taking my youngest to Oregon and leaving the two older ones at home with their father (otherwise known as Mr. Honey). I knew he was not going to be French braiding their hair everyday while I was away. As soon as I boarded the airplane he went straight to the drugstore and bought them each 10 different headbands and handed them a brush. That was their ticket to independence and there was no going back to the days of me doing their hair. I was grief stricken when I returned home. I can laugh about it now, but I really was traumatized!

Then, when my middle daughter went away to study abroad her junior year (in Ireland), I received a letter from her, letting me know she was planning on shaving her head. I was completely mortified. I couldn't understand why a child that never had a bad hair day in her life would choose to do such a thing. I begged her not to do it. I thought her to be so ungrateful having been blessed with a head full of golden curls to just shave it all away. I think she received so much attention for her beautiful hair that she just wanted to know what it would feel like to be known for herself and not her gorgeous hair. At any rate, I went to bed for three days and cried til there was not one tear left. When I got up from my bed, I took my youngest daughter shopping for all the girlie clothes we could find. Quite simply that is how I chose to cope.

In the photo below is how I imagine the look on my daughter's face when I begged her not to shave her head. You know that look of "what do you mean I can't do with my hair as I please?"
This child of mine has always had the courage to live life her way. I never had that courage (or at least, not to that that extent), so I really do admire that courage and the strength of character it takes to live life as authentically as you possibly can.

Below is a photo of my middle daughter, taken after she called to tell me she was going to dye her hair red, and didn't want me to see a photo of her on Facebook before telling me herself what she was planning on doing. I subtly tried to threaten to pierce my nose, get a tattoo on my cheek and dye my hair black. Ultimatums and guilt have never been good motivators for any of my three daughters. I have been known to say "I taught my girls to think for themselves and doggone it they do!"

When my mother was in the hospital having a heart attack many years ago my youngest was at home dying her hair red. What is the fascination with red hair, may I ask? I took her straight to the hair salon to get the red out and after twelve hours she was finally a blond again. So you see, it was my youngest daughter who blazed the trail for her middle sister to dye her hair red.

Here's Brook today with her new hair color. She is quite gorgeous no matter what the hair color, I have to admit.