I was tagged in an article by a friend this week discussing the appropriateness of women dyeing their hair pink in their 50s. For the record, if you’re a woman of said age considering a vivid colour; do it! Assuming it makes you happy that is. But the discussion got me thinking.

I first dyed my hair pink in 2013, and I believe the last time it was pink was 2019. So over a period of about six years I was predominantly pink haired, though not exclusively. I did during that time also explore purple, red, pink/purple/blue combo, blue, blackberry, black and bleach-white blonde and it was the latter I progressed to in the years 2019-2022.

When I first went pink, I was still working in a children’s nursery. I did check with my employer before taking the plunge. The children were amused by it. Many of the girls loved it, and would beg their mummies at pick up times to let them have hair like Julie’s. Oops! The boys thought it was stupid. Obviously. But it wasn’t a problem to anybody. I was pink when I graduated at Fd(A) level. I loved it.

Interestingly, after I had my breakdown in 2013 there was an assumption that having pink hair was a part of being mentally unwell. In reality it had been a part of my life when I was well too, and was just a lifestyle choice. Pink is my favourite colour therefore why not have pink hair? My last psychiatrist was actually obsessed with my pink hair. He would repeatedly ask why I dyed my hair pink. Obviously my answer that I liked it like that didn’t satisfy him. I discovered at some point that patients with vibrant hair colour, piercings and tattoos are more likely to be diagnosed with with EUBPD (emotionally unstable borderline personality disorder) and it was in this timeframe that the diagnosis was tagged onto my existing bipolar one. I have no doubt at all that the psychiatrist’s endless questioning and the new diagnosis were related. Interestingly my first tattoo confounded him! Whilst it was clearly further proof of my EUBPD, I had chosen to have one of the principles of DBT tattooed on me (a therapy specifically used in patients with EUBPD). Oh well. We went our separate ways a few years back now. I’m intrigued to know that now I have natural hair and less piercings whether I’d still be labelled that way.

So what made me start with the pink hair? Simple. I’d never really liked my natural hair. Not so much the colour, but the way it never looked nice. My hair is fine and silky, but lacks volume. It looks greasy just a few hours after washing it. It’s neither straight nor curly. One hairdresser described it as kinky. I’m saying nothing. During my marriage to Andrew I risked verbal abuse or being sent to Coventry if I had my hair cut too short or if I coloured it. He believed he had the final say in what I wore and how I presented myself. There were many stalemate moments but usually I gave in for a quiet life. Things improved towards the end, somewhere along the line I found my lady-balls, but I’m talking having shorter, lightened hair, absolutely not pink!

After he died I continued to have my hair cut short, and experimented with shades of red, blonde, highlights etc but I still never found a haircut I loved. And that was the ultimate reason I went pink in time; I couldn’t have a style I loved, so I had a colour I loved instead. And also; I could. I had no one telling me no.

I had a lot of fun being pink, a lot of difficult times too, but in my period of trying other vibrant colours, I discovered I loved being white-blonde. Additionally I found a hairdresser who cut my hair in a style I loved! Being pink is pretty high maintenance and it was getting expensive too. Even if I could do my own colour at home, I wouldn’t. Been there, done that, scrubbed dye off every conceivable bathroom surface, and anyway, I can’t bend over the basin/bath these days.

So having found a style I liked, I ditched the pink in favour of white-blonde for around three years. Until the wedding. In the last year I’ve evolved again, grew out the bleach and am discovering my natural colour again. Add to that, I have currently stopped having my hair cut every six weeks, and am seeing, as it grows, what I want to do with it. I may go back to regular chops at some point, but right now I’m just letting it be. Who knew grey hairs could be so pretty? Like shining silver silken threads. I am so embracing those. I earned those. I also believe my poor locks deserve a break after so many years of bleach and harsh chemicals.

So currently my hair is 100% natural and slightly longer than I usually wear it. I wish it didn’t get greasy quite so quickly, but one thing I’ve learned as a depressive is dry shampoo is my friend.

The closest I’ve been to pink more recently was some spray-in colour for my hen party. Which was fun. And I believe there’s still some in the can. Or my pink wig when I’m cosplaying. Would I actually go pink again? I have no plans to. But never say never.