The Chameleon

I treated Lauren to her first highlights in her hair for her birthday when she turned 12. She had been talking about them for some time but I didn't think it was appropriate to start such processes too young. Some might think 12 is too young but I promise, it was only little touches to her already dirty blond hair.
Then as she got older Lauren loved to experiment with her hair color. The only thing I insisted upon was that she always stay within some natural hair color family....red, blond, brunette or even black but no green, purple or pink. She respected my boundaries but did push them to the limits sometimes. The trouble with me trying to tame her hair color changing obsession was that she could pull off every single color she tried.
She was beautiful as a blond, ravishing as a red head, a bombshell as a brunette and even when she did a little funky black color with a touch of red around her face she looked cute as could be. Lauren's skin, although she battled an occasional breakout, was gorgeous. It was pale like mine but not as freckled thanks to her dad. He eyes were a bright green ringed with a little blue. The perfect combination of natural coloring to be capable of looking great with any hair color she chose.
When she was little we allowed her hair to grow all the way down her back. It was naturally blond and had just a little curl in it. When we moved to the lake front house in Lakeland we finally had to cut it up to her shoulders. No matter what product I tried I could never remove all of the minerals from the lake water and combing it out became a battle that was not worth fighting.
Every now and then Lauren would choose a red that was a little orange and bright. But people loved it and would compliment her only fueling her desire to keep coloring it. One complication from her desire to color her hair was the fact that her bathroom looked like someone had been injured in there if I didn't stay on her to clean up properly. Especially when using red hair dye. My toilet seat still has stains on the lid where she forgot to wipe it all up before it dried.
Another issue came into play when she didn't keep up with the applications and the darker roots started showing. I remember one such occasion where she had gone too long between dye jobs . I had affectionately referred to Lauren as "Rainbow Bright" for about a week in an attempt to give her the hint to fix her hair. The ends had faded back to dark blond, the shafts were still red and the roots were brown. She and I went to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants one night and I couldn't take it anymore. After dinner we walked down the plaza to a fairly new hair salon and asked if they could fit her in. About $180.00 later she was a stunning red head again.
All of this drove my mother crazy but I reminded her that this was a pretty innocuous way for Lauren to express herself. She was very artistic so she innately desired expression. I thought she handled it well.
I suppose she had decided on a color she liked just before her accident. When I went to pack all of her things in her dorm room she had pinned a portion of the box of hair color to her bulletin board. I guess this was her way of remembering which type to buy the next time.
I considered getting the same color and doing my hair as a way of honoring her...you think of anything and everything possible to do to feel close to your child when she is gone. But I would never be able to pull it off like my beautiful Lauren did. So I stick to my own color and keep moving on remembering my little chameleon and how gorgeous she was, inside and out, regardless of the color of her hair.