I have been dyeing my hair since I was twelve, and it has been the following colors: brown, light brown, dark brown, black, blonde, “dishwater” blonde, really blonde, white, Lizzie McGuire-yellow, crayon-yellow, orange, oops-orange, lavender, pink, and red.
And I can say, without a doubt, that redheads are the MOST discriminated against, by far.
This is my second round “in the red,” and multiple people have already asked where I put my soul. Just because I don’t walk around with my soul hanging out does not mean I am not a real woman. Gotta have some self respect, am I right?
Also, apparently having red hair on your head gives complete strangers license to inquire about the color of other hair on your body. Um, hello, my arm hair is RIGHT HERE. If you need another point of reference, check out my mustache; I’ve been growing it in real nice to earn LA street cred. If you continue to bother me, I will have no choice but to show you my three inch leg hair and you will be haunted by that image for the rest of your life.
There are other unique challenges being a redhead, starting with the way every single fabric in every single color seems to clash with red, so you have to be more thoughtful when throwing on sweats in the morning (my pink velour track suit is currently out of commission).
Furthermore, you can’t run or walk quickly or hold your breath in public because if even your nose turns off-pink, you automatically look like the AirHead mascot.
ANYWAY, my plea is thus: give redheads a break. Would you ever ask about these women’s carpet to drape comparison?
(I didn’t think so.)
There are only two “gingers” I think it’s okay to make jokes about, and it’s not even that much fun anymore.