Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Blog 65: To be a Redhead

Blog 65: To be a Redhead

Shirley Temple (my next Halloween Costume)...Carrot Top, Big Red, Raggedy Anne, Fire Muff (this one was bad, but what was even worse was that for the first two months I did not know what “muff” meant and thought it was a Cool nickname...until I told my older sister and she was like, “dumb ass, do you know that muff means pussy”...oops)

Whatever name you got for my red hair, I have probably heard it, about 30 times...

Recently I have been studying about redheads and well...seems like my peeps have been fucked for a while...just saying...persecution is a bitch.

Did you know that long ago us redheads were burned at the stake, that we were thought to be demon children, some think we possess great powers, some say we are kinda nuts, and we are known as over sexual...well, some things might be true...

Today, I have grown to love my lion’s mane...yet, it was not always like that.

May I say for the first four years of my life I was the cutest orphan Annie you had ever seen. Yet as I started to go to school I started to hate my hair...First off, I had no idea how to take care of it...a personal note to people with curly hair like mine...don’t brush it, you will look like a first grade Sister Mary took me to get a hair cut, I looked like a freaking Christmas tree (I think this was the birth of me getting freaked out by hair cuts and why I only do it to myself today)...then of course there was the NKOTB years where I had the “pumped” bangs...that was really bad and used up a lot of hair spray...yikes.

I was the only one with red hair in my grade school, hell I was the only white kid in my class...and the thought of someone having red hair made the other kids laugh, cause I was different...someone pretty much made fun of my hair everyday throughout all of grade school and the first half of high school...I didn’t really learn how to tame my hair till I was about 16 years old...I still remember the first compliment I got on my hair, it was on the 31 Balboa bus, a lady told me she LOVED my hair, it was the first time someone had said something about my hair that was shocked me.

I can honestly say that grade school and high school were really hard on me...Someone was always teasing me, I don’t think I ever felt pretty, and a lot of that had to do with the fact that everyone was making fun of my red made me even more different than I already was.

Today is a whole new ball game, someone compliments my hair everyday, I respond every time with “My daddy gave it to me”...I even had a chode at the Boom Boom Room ask to smell my hair on Saturday night...who does that? He kept on going on and on about sniffing my hair...Weirdo.

But having hair like mine is a balance...yes it is quite awesomeness times 11 and smells delicious, but you know I can never sneak into a show, was never able to get a fake ID, usually when I do something embarrassing people are going to remember cause it was “the crazy redhead”...I meet people all the time who already have met me and remember me and I have no idea who they are...but they know who I am...and its usually cause of my hair that they recall who I am.

Ohhh, and I stick out like a sore thumb...I remember the first time I had the privilege of going to The Greek Theater in Berkley...I was sitting in the very top back smoking a bowl (the total opposite side of the entrance)...a friend came up to me and said, “Sunshine, as soon as I walked in I looked around and saw your bright red hair all the way over here, how funny is that?”...ha ha ha ha...don’t ever ask me to rob a bank, I’ll never get away unrecognized.

Sometimes I wish I could just blend in, to be like everyone else, to be able to simply pull my hair in a ponytail like all the other girls can...but I can’t. My hair is the cards that I were dealt, and that is simply that.

I just embrace it now, I wear dresses that are as flashy as my hair, cause if you are going to stand out, there aint no point about being half ass about it.

I have never mustered up the strength to dye my mane or change it in any way (I tried ironing it for like 30 minutes once, and it looked the exact same)...cause as much grief as it gives is me, it has become part of who I am, and I love it and have no desire to change it.

For getting teased about my hair for so long, really makes me appreciate every time someone says something nice about it...sometimes I feel like a swam...having grown into her beauty...I run into people from grade school every once in a while and they do the "step back"..I smile and think, "yeah, you made fun of this awesomeness...ding dong."

And as much grief and teasing came with my hair in my early years, it only helped make me the strong ass woman I am today (I’m pretty sure this is another trait that redheads are known for)...And I guess that is what I love so much about my hair, it has helped me become me.

Cause if it doesn’t kill you...


FINDING WATER (the old school way)

First you want to start off holding one of those “wishbone” sticks, they are a stick that splits off into two...those are the best ones for finding water, now walk with the stick in your hands and once you feel it start to shake a little, grab your shovel and start to dig, you might want to get someone to help you dig, cause digging is a bitch...(joint breaks are allowed)...oh your shovel just broke through...WATER IN YOUR FACE (I usually try to block the water with my forearms to no avail) not only is your face nice and clean, but your thirst is quenched...awesomeness.

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