H – Hair today, gone tomorrow

Hair is a funny thing.  One is never happy with the hair they were born with, and most people complain about the hair they have, and wish they had someone else’s hair. This is most assuredly true for those of us born with red hair.

I was born with orange red hair according to my Mum, and then at some point when I was still an infant, it all fell out and grew in a dark red.  And it was curly.  Unruly.  It didn’t matter what I did with my hair, it was always looked like I had just come out of a jungle, all wild and crazy.  I always looked like one of those feral children, who had been raised by wolves, or tigers, and had never seen a brush. So, for the first part of my life, my hair was kept very short.

Because of my red hair, I was doomed to wearing blues, browns and greens.  I was never allowed to wear really bright colors , because they would clash with my hair.  While all my friends in school were allowed to wear pink, I was stuck with wearing the most somber of colors.  I hated that!  It wasn’t until I was about 17, I was said “Poo on it, I am wearing pink, because I like pink.”

And kids were merciless with the insults when I was a kid.  No one insulted the brunettes or the blondes about their hair.  And when “South Park” came out and said “Gingers had no souls”, I can tell you that incensed me so much. And I had freckles to go with the red hair.  Lots of freckles.  I was asked by a kid (when I was adult), if I had some kind of skin disease, because I had so many freckles.  Other jokes I have heard over years are “You could play connect the dots with your freckles”, and “Do your freckles ever blend together and become a tan?”

 

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That’s some crazy hair – gotta love those glasses!

 

But then a funny thing began to happen when I hit my thirties.  My hair started getting lighter and lighter.  It went from auburn, to a light strawberry blonde to a platinum blonde.  And this has been disconcerting for me, to say the least.  Because now people refer to me as not the “Tall redheaded lady”, but as the “Tall blonde lady”, which is so weird.  My Dad says my hair has adjusted to fit my personality.  Ha-ha, what a funny guy! I miss my red hair, now that it is gone. I have tried dying it back to red, but it always washes out in a matter of weeks.  Apparently red hair does not hold dye.  It turns out though, I am kind of in a cool group now, because everyone wants to have the same colored hair as Khaleesi off of “Game of Thrones”. My English Buttercream Golden Retriever and I have the same colored hair now.

I still have freckles (I was told these would fade as I became older) – they haven’t.  And my hair is still unruly, but at least it isn’t falling out.  I suppose I should be grateful for that.

Phot credit – pinterest.com

 

5 replies »

  1. What a bizarre hair color change! I’m curious what color BG’s will end up being. My husband has black hair, I have dark brown hair, and she has strawberry blonde hair.

    • My Irish Grandmother’s hair went through exact same color change as well. I tried to dye it but instantly ended up with blonde roots, which I complained bitterly about. So I gave up. Now I just look like a crazy old lady, I think I shall start wearing purple. Did you every hear of that book, When I am old, I shall wear purple – or some title such as that.

  2. Would love to see a current picture, just for reference if nothing else. If your current natural color is close to being a silver fox, it might help settle an argument I’ve had with my mom who thinks that color only ages you!

    • I would have to agree with your Mom. I think my hair gives me a really washed out look. And for that reason, I never have photos taken of me. Imagine the fur on the belly of a English Buttercream Golden Retriever – that is the color of my hair. A lot of people really love the color of my hair, and think it is dyed that color. Again, just like I used to say when I had red hair – why would anyone pay to have their hair this color. But – like my Mum always says – well, at least it keeps your head warm.

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