My daughter has green hair.
It is not the pale, pastel green you sometimes see on unicorns or fairy princesses. It is the deep, rich, vibrant green of tree leaves in high summer when the chlorophyll is at its peak. It is a very green green with the merest hint of blue in it.
It is not natural, of course. No human I ever heard of has naturally green hair. Indeed, I don’t think any mammal at all sports a green coat unless it lets some parasite grow on it. Nor does my daughter have a need to camouflage herself among green plants. For one thing, it’s the dead of winter. For another, her pale, pink skin would defeat her purpose. She made her hair green.
Which means it is her choice.
In deciding to color her hair green, she has already considered the aesthetic for herself, already factored in the comments it will provoke, already decided that she expects you to notice but doesn’t care what you think.
“I just want you to know,” I told her, “that I won’t always say anything about it, but for the next week or so, it will be the first thing I notice about you whenever I see you. She chuckled briefly and went on getting ready for her day.
Coloring your hair nowadays barely raises an eyebrow. It is so common that those old Clairol commercials (“Does she, or doesn’t she?”) with their tinge of sexual innuendo, seem quaint. No one cares any more whether she does or doesn’t. But green is still a bold choice. There can be no question that she does indeed. It’s a bit daring, especially for someone in a customer-facing role in her work. People accustomed to seeing her with the more natural-looking red she had yesterday—also, by the way, entirely artificial—may be taken aback at seeing her now with verdant locks. They will have to get used to it, just as I will. Considering how quickly humans adapt to change, it won’t even be hard.