#16: My daughter’s trying to Out me

My little girl — a description which no longer fits the beautiful young woman who lodges in my house and swings by for meals — is blonde. When she was a baby, her hair was the glorious, Nordic spun gold written about in fairy tales. Since she became a teenager though, it has become more mousy and in her words, “beige”.
In an effort to make an impact, two years ago, she dyed her hair as brown as dark chocolate — and claimed to love the transformation. I loathed the new colour, partly I realise, because she no longer looked like me, but mostly because she no longer looked like her. Over time, the hair gradually turned a strange fox-fur red, which we both hated. The only way to resolve the problem was for daddy to put his hand in his pocket for a full head of highlights with a talented colourist, which made us both happy. This story is continued in Strexit Volume One: Coming out to myself, available in the Kindle store…
