Not only is it easy to be purple, it's amusing.
Two stories on my life as a purple-haired person:
1. The grocery store. I was waiting my turn at the deli case, and a young woman, probably mid-20s, walked up and started browsing next to me. A little taller than me (hence: very tall for a woman), thin, serious-looking, very short hair, aviator-style glasses, Docker-type pants, button-up shirt, big, black watch on her wrist. All in all, the tailored, mannish engineer look - one that I am familiar with, having worked in engineering for years. I'm standing there, as close to "patiently waiting" as I get, and she sidles a little closer, lightly punches me on the shoulder and says: "Solidarity, sister." And then walks off. I'm thinking: "huh?" And then I realize it - she thought I was gay. My jaw dropped open, and then I shut it. She thought I was a lesbian? Fine. Just don't french-kiss me at the cheese case, and you can think anything you want, honey, especially if you think it's a gesture of support.
2. The comics shop. My local comics shop is run by a gaggle of very, VERY nice people, but my affection is saved chiefly for Shawn, the twenty-something manager. Shawn is extremely cranky for someone who makes his living in retail, and it's just one of many things I love about him, which usually includes his wit. I'd run away with Shawn and long boxes of comics if I didn't think we'd kill each other in about 2 weeks because we're too similar. Plus neither of our spouses would appreciate it. On with the story: I tend to forget I have purple hair, because I am a mirror-phobe and it's short enough now that brushing is superfluous. Shawn said nothing the hour or so I was in the store, until I was getting ready to leave, and I mentioned I might not be in the following comics Wednesday because we were going camping (which was a disaster, one that I might tell you about later). Shawn nodded, and quietly mentioned I might want one of those orange safety vests. Puzzled, I asked why, and he replied: "Because with your new plumage, someone is going to mistake you for an exotic game bird, and you might be in danger."
God, I love my Shawn.
1. The grocery store. I was waiting my turn at the deli case, and a young woman, probably mid-20s, walked up and started browsing next to me. A little taller than me (hence: very tall for a woman), thin, serious-looking, very short hair, aviator-style glasses, Docker-type pants, button-up shirt, big, black watch on her wrist. All in all, the tailored, mannish engineer look - one that I am familiar with, having worked in engineering for years. I'm standing there, as close to "patiently waiting" as I get, and she sidles a little closer, lightly punches me on the shoulder and says: "Solidarity, sister." And then walks off. I'm thinking: "huh?" And then I realize it - she thought I was gay. My jaw dropped open, and then I shut it. She thought I was a lesbian? Fine. Just don't french-kiss me at the cheese case, and you can think anything you want, honey, especially if you think it's a gesture of support.
2. The comics shop. My local comics shop is run by a gaggle of very, VERY nice people, but my affection is saved chiefly for Shawn, the twenty-something manager. Shawn is extremely cranky for someone who makes his living in retail, and it's just one of many things I love about him, which usually includes his wit. I'd run away with Shawn and long boxes of comics if I didn't think we'd kill each other in about 2 weeks because we're too similar. Plus neither of our spouses would appreciate it. On with the story: I tend to forget I have purple hair, because I am a mirror-phobe and it's short enough now that brushing is superfluous. Shawn said nothing the hour or so I was in the store, until I was getting ready to leave, and I mentioned I might not be in the following comics Wednesday because we were going camping (which was a disaster, one that I might tell you about later). Shawn nodded, and quietly mentioned I might want one of those orange safety vests. Puzzled, I asked why, and he replied: "Because with your new plumage, someone is going to mistake you for an exotic game bird, and you might be in danger."
God, I love my Shawn.