My hamster might be dead and I have pink hair

I have pink hair right now.  I feel like a teenager. 

Am I rebelling or expressing my authentic self? 
Am I having a mid-life crisis? 
Am I just bored in a corporate job? 
Am I kissing ass as I know that the much higher up bosses like that kind of difference? 
Am I decolonizing from a strict childhood in a church where wearing makeup made you a whore?
Am I putting off aging and hiding the emerging white? 
Am I using my privilege or looking white and knowing that I can break rules and not have unbearable consequences?
Am I inspired by all the fabulous drag queens who inspire me to live life a bit larger?
Am I trying to walk the walk for my children and show that it is ok to be who you are? 
Is it all those things?

And what is authentic identity anyway?  What constructions of identity are healthy and what are lies we tell ourselves to get by, to fit in and not rock the boat?  I feel these question keenly as I try to walk the red road.  Should I dress a certain way?  Do I need to performatively exist differently as  Metis? 

I really like the philosopher  Slavoj Zizek.  He tells a story about a man whos wife dies and the man does not appear to be sad, but then his hamster dies and the guy loses it.  He challenges the reader to think about what our hamster is?  What keeps us hanging on and what can't we lose?

How much of that outer life and pink hair is part of my hamster?