Red or Dead

tumblr_nc72uaorcJ1rlvym3o1_500As with my enormous bottom, I always thought of my red hair as a hindrance.

There were times I would curse my mystery benefactor, the one who bestowed the ginger gene upon me without permission and skipped maniacally into the sunset never to be seen again. His myth was replaced with the one about the milkman and I cursed him for decades.

Aunts and relations I had never seen before, nor since, would come out of the woodwork on special occasions to gush about it.

“Women pay thousands for hair the colour of yours” they would repeat, over and over; and I would stand there with my faux-family smile taped on until it was over.

Nothing if not polite.

I was not what you would consider a graceful young person and my teenage years were particularly horrific. I have hair that can be controlled by no man, woman or warrior and even my mother, in all her glory, couldn’t tame the beast.

While my cousin’s strawberry locks were wrestled into delightful french plaits and swinging ponies, with pretty accessories that made her look like baby Carmen Miranda, mine was as coarse as a horse’s. It wasn’t the kind of hair one simply twisted up and before long I ended up with a very unbecoming crop, courtesy of Mama.

Picture the scene. A toothy ginger girl with an orange short back and sides sent into the world to find her way. It was soul affirming (eventually) but then I felt ugly and unique in a freakish way; absorbed in my own adolescent self-pity.

As I grew up and the reins of control vis-a-vis my head follicles passed into my own hands, I took it through a series of experimental phases as all teenagers do. I regret not colouring it better and am highly jealous of all the pastels wafting around today, but I did visit every possible shade of red from pillar box to maroon. You could say, although I dyed it a lot, I never really veered off the crimson path.

Except for once with the blue-black. We don’t talk about the blue-black period…

My new crazy Brighton life saw it cut into the ‘Kelly Osbourne’ circa The Osbournes and that was lovely. I would slap on Directions hair dye like it was going out of style and our white bath took on a vaguely pink tint as the years passed.

As I travelled and settled then moved on again, as my life took many twists and turns, the one constant was my hair. I would always take the time to keep my colour fresh. When I started talking to my now husband whilst still in Canada, I was working Scarlet Power, a dark red that would glow like lava in the sunlight.

In the end I decided to try my natural shade back on for size. It was a decision fuelled by my age, if I’m honest. I didn’t want to be ‘brassy’ coming into my mid-thirties and I’m not one to go to a hairdresser to have it done responsibly. Plus, I have a perfectly okay colour so before it starts to turn grey, I might as well enjoy the window.

Now I get the same compliments I did as a kid but this time round I can appreciate them. My best friend said I looked like a mermaid the other day, and there’s no higher compliment than that, is there?

It’s taken me over thirty years to be okay with who I really am and I’m going to enjoy it now, dammit.

*swishes hair and flounces off into the sunset*

3 comments

  1. I loved reading this. I felt like I was reading my own experience for a second there! As a redhead, curly haired being myself, it’s taken me a long time to accept and really appreciate my hair. I remember this grandmas telling me that the moment she started appreciating her red hair, it started to go white! How sad. Honestly, identified greatly with the whole ‘milkman’ scenario, being the only redhead in the family.
    I’m currently starting my own redhead bullying campaign and would love you to read my blog- my first blog especially. It is all about my experiences as a redhead too, so would love to hear your thoughts 🙂

    http://notsimplyred.wordpress.com/2014/09/10/12/

    You have a great blog, very interesting to read!

    Like

    • Thank you so much Not Simply Red, I will definitely read your blog, as I feel very strongly about ginger bullying and bullying of any kind too, what a great idea (for a blog)!

      Thank you so much for taking the time to comment, it means more than you can imagine. Right, just grabbing a cuppa and I’ll be over shortly! x

      Like

  2. I enjoyed reading your post!
    It’s funny because I’ve always been so jealous of gingers! You always get the fiery, passionate characters in novels!
    I dyed my hair red once, but I think it’s nice to just embrace your natural hair color.
    Ha, plus it’s an ideal option if you’re too lazy to be bothered with dyeing and re-dyeing like I am! 🙂

    Like

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