I'm a princess.

At the moment, I have bright pink hair. It should be red, like my profile photo, but it's faded so much and my hair is so damaged (read : too terrified of getting a hair cut) that the color fades quick and leaves just the pink base behind. Not really my favorite but between our impending move, work, family, etc. etc. etc. I haven't found a moment to do the whole hair color process.

It has been an interesting social experiment. Suburbia is not much for anything non-standard. For another week, I live in a suburb VERY not interested in anything non-standard.  I am a fat white woman, broad shoulders, wide hips - I'm physically hard to miss. My day-to-day attire matches my corporate casual day job, maybe with a little more flair. Pretty standard stuff, but I have bubble-gum pink hair.

People openly and actively stare. Children are my favorite as well as the folks who unabashedly stare and smile when I walk by. I try to make eye contact with everyone, return a genuine smile, answer their questions with bright enthusiasm. People ask all kinds of questions: "Did you do that on purpose?" " How did you get it that color?" "Do you have a job?" "What does your mom think?" Personal questions that mostly they would never think to ask a normal stranger, but something about acting like it's the most normal thing in the world and engaging them in that manner makes them bold. Some days, I really hate it, but I can put on a hat and become just another anonymous person doing the weekly shopping.

Not a princess. 

It challenges my self-esteem, because not everyone is nice, but thankfully they are usually pretty quiet and look away quickly when I make eye contact, but I do occasionally hear people making fun, see them rolling their eyes and I do take a specific kind of pleasure in making them so uncomfortable.

It's washed out in my memory by experiences like the one I had in the grocery store tonight. I was picking out produce, ear phones in, when I felt a tug on my shirt. It was a little girl, likely 7 or so. She very clearly asked, "Are you a princess?" Her mom was around the other side of the bin, not paying attention. When I answered in the negative, she said, "My mom said only princesses can have pink hair." I thought for a moment, what I would say to D'mitri if he made a similar statement. Leaned down, smiled and said, "Your mom's lying."

She furrowed her little eyebrows, turned around and said, loudly and whining, "MOM!!" and walked off.