I can finally cross something off my list of Things I Want to Do Before I Die. Yes. With much encouragement from mneme_metis and invaluable assistance from insanedeity, I have dyed my hair electric blue.

That is, not all of it. Just streaks. But streaks count. Anything that means I go out in public with my hair *blue* for the next six weeks bloody well counts.

The result of this adventure is beyond my ability to succinctly explain, but I suppose I might come close by saying it's made me slightly itchy in my skin. This person I've been for over two decades---that I've seen in mirrors, that others have responded to, that I've pictured when exhorting/chiding/laughing at---is now a bubble off plumb. Not enough to completely change who I am, but definitely enough to make me *feel* different.

What's peculiar, too, is that I rather expected to either hate it or love it, not both at the same time, in swirling, changeable amounts. Some moments I wish it gone, some moments I'm thrilled to know it's there. Lately, as the color has lightened and my hair has adjusted to the dye-dryness (and I've encountered people at the grocery store and coffee shop), there's been a greater dram of the latter in my cup.

Cripes. Everybody should do this. ::grinning:: In omnia paratus, baby.

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