On hair dye and Valentine’s Day

A few weeks ago Jeremy commented that he was waiting for his hair to turn brown again. He couldn’t figure out why it was turning grey. Somehow, even though I said I was bleaching his hair, he thought I was simply dying his hair blond then adding whatever colour we’d chosen, and that both dyes would eventually wash out.

He figured he’d just let the dye grow out but finally grew tired of having grey hair and asked if he could dye it again. I commented that I’d seen a bunch of hair dye in a local store and asked what colour he wanted, figuring he’d ask for brown. He wanted blue. I’d seen two there, dark blue and aqua. He immediately chose aqua because it sounded cool.


It looks good, albeit as dry as straw. The dry part can be fixed with some hair oil and/or conditioner, both of which Jeremy forgot to use when he was rinsing out his hair.

I had some dye on my arm afterwards and showed it to a couple of customers at work. I got one, “wow, that looks awesome” comment from a retired teacher. The rest all showed various expressions of shock. The last person stammered something about diversity and there being enough room for everyone in Canada, and that was when I gave up. Jeremy wasn’t dying his hair as any sort of statement. He dyed it because he’s 16 years old and thought the colour was pretty cool. Considering how tightly he’s wedged himself into the closet, he’d be horrified to think people are considering his hair dye to be a statement regarding sexual orientation or gender (the customer’s shocked mumbles weren’t exactly clear).

Then came Valentine’s Day. A day I’ve been fretting and worrying over. I usually give the kids a small container of chocolates but, this year, I grabbed something different for Jeremy. A bottle of red glittery nail polish…


I picked up toe dividers too because I didn’t think he’d want to paint his finger nails. The sticks in the foreground are flavoured honey (Jeremy loves honey). The hot chocolate in the background is so I’d have something to tell anyone who asked me what I got Jeremy for Valentine’s Day. Yes, people did ask.

We went out for dinner that night and, on the way home, Jeremy complained about the wind blowing his hair into his eyes. I assured him that his hair is almost long enough to tuck behind his ears then reminded him he’d just got it long enough to do that last year when he got it cut. And that he was already talking about getting it cut this summer. He better get used to hair falling into his eyes if he’s going to keep cutting his hair just as it gets long enough.

“Mom, I don’t want to cut my hair,” he replied. “I just don’t want to wait for my hair to grow out to its natural colour. It would be easier just to cut it all off.”

“Hon, why don’t you dye your hair brown?” I asked. He stared at me blankly. “Jeremy, there’s aisles of brown hair dye. When this blue fades, we can pick one close to your colour and dye it back.”

This was something he’d never thought about before. I love this kid but him and logic often only have a nodding acquaintance. If you want someone to help you think of a solar panel powered flying car that talks and might even run on wind power too, he’s your guy. If you anything logical, well that’s not usually Jeremy’s forte.

His sister Emma and her boyfriend came over for dinner last night. Before they arrived, Jeremy commented that he wanted her to paint his nails. The polish had disappeared by the time they walked in the door. I waited until afterwards to ask him where it went.

“I hid it inside the desk drawer,” he admitted.

I don’t know if he’ll ever use the nail polish but, at least I know he was happy getting it.


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