So I’m sitting here with dye on my head. And not just any color: purple! Here I am at almost 34 years old and dying my hair purple.

I once heard that people whose favorite color is purple are strange, mysterious, and untrustworthy. I say we’re royalty.

Now people who dye their hair purple. I don’t know. It’s not a midlife crisis–I just love dying my hair bright colors. And it just so happened that my work said it was okay if I did it.

Well, what is there to lose? I just don’t feel quite as much as myself as I do when my hair is purple.

What will the people on the trains think though? I wonder if they’ll still let me sit when they see my pink-flowered cane and the medical help tag hanging from my purse–also purple.

At least my husband calls me his purple unicorn. Purple makes me feel safe and comfortable in my skin. And when people stare at me for being big or foreign or tall I can think: Oh, they’re admiring my purple hair.

I feel like I’m enough when I have purple hair.

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