Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Almost every time I leave the house I get the same question from perfect strangers.
"Where did your kids get their red hair?"
I want to scream, "ME--YOU IDIOT!!"
But, I refrain and instead politely reply, "From me. In fact, my hair used to be as red as theirs."
I get looks of shock and awe--"REALLY??!!"
(Here is where I give them my evil eye)
My hairdresser (a copper redhead) and I have had many discussions about what color it is exactly that people think my hair is. She thinks it is clearly red (as do I). Yesterday my VT's came over and one of them asked the golden question. So I had to take the opportunity to ask. According to her I am definitely a blond.
See, here's the thing--as you well know, if you have been one color most of your life it kind of becomes part of your identity.
For you blonds, you get older and your hair gets darker. For us redheads, our hair just goes lighter and lighter. I colored it for a couple of years for this very reason. One day I had a lady say to me, "What a gorgeous color your hair is! You can't fake red like that, you know."
Well guess what? It was kinda fake.
It has been noted by several professors in my English classes that it is always the redheaded woman that is the deviant in Victorian novels and paintings--the fallen woman, the evil seducer of men.
It was beginning to make me jealous of my former self.
I finally took the plunge yesterday and got a large amount of dark red highlights. At least now people can attribute both my children and my fiesty behavior to my hair.