Cassidy is one of my friends from high school that I've stayed in close contact with over the years. We graduated high school together, went off to The University of Iowa together, and somehow have managed to find our paths crossing over time. She is beautiful, intelligent, creative, and witty. When I think of our relationship, I find myself humbled and incredibly appreciative of her friendship. I'm baffled by some of our adventures over the years, and a little uncertain as to how we haven't gotten into more trouble than what we have -- with our parents, with each other, with the law.
When we were seniors in high school, Cass and I found ourselves spending a lot of time together. Most of our other friends were dating or just generally unavailable to hang out on Saturday nights due to curfews or family obligations. So there were many Saturday nights during our senior year of high school where I would drive to Cherokee to meet Cass after she ended her shift at the convenience store on Highway 59. We would then drive around, just talking, joking around, and generally killing time.
Cass' mom owns a beauty shop, which we had access to. One Thursday night, Cass, myself, and our friend, Marci, ended up at the beauty shop. I'm not sure we really had any intentions of going there; we just found ourselves there, poking around and exploring what the beauty shop had to offer. And then, before we knew it, Cassidy was applying peroxide to my hair. An hour later, my auburn hair had five or six blond streaks throughout it. You could only see them when my hair was pulled back from my face. I went home to bed, hair down, praying that my mom wouldn't see me. She didn't -- her eyes didn't spot me until the following night, when she saw me running down the basketball court during that week's basketball game. Shortly after the game, my mom found me. She shook her head, touched a blond streak on my head, and said, "Hair grows out." I will always love that moment with her, when she opted not to freak out about something as insignificant as streaked hair. And I think that she secretly loved that I did something slightly daring, despite it's stupidity.
I'm not sure what possessed us to streak my hair that night. Boredom, mostly. Curiosity over what it might look like, I suppose. And also for the slight thrill of doing something...different. Cass and I made a few trips back to the beauty parlor over the next year to refresh my streaks. By the end of my sophomore year of college, we had let my hair grow out. It's been years since I've added permanent color changes to my hair.
Until today. I suppose the same reasons drove my decision today to streak my hair: curiosity, a new thrill, and something different. Instead of blond, this time I selected teal. A bright blue-green that makes me think of dying Easter eggs. Instead of a 17-year-old girl altering the color of my hair, I went to an actual hair stylist that I have been seeing for years. We decided just to place the panels of color on the bottom side of my hair; that way, the top of my hair still looks natural so that I don't run into any issues in the office or in case I need to have a more professional look. It sounds silly, but adding the color to my hair today gave me the same thrill as when Cassidy and I did so when we were teenagers. It gave me a feeling of control, even a slight defiance against those aspects of my everyday adult life that are stifling and feel less creative. It's started as teal, but now I'm envisioning expanding the colors out to a more visible location, and perhaps adding a few additional colors -- pink, blue, orange, yellow. Not red, but maybe purple. A kaleidoscope of color spiraling through my hair.
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