The trouble with reds

My dear sister at Life in a Pink Fibro wrote a fantastic post about redheads today. I started writing a comment on her site and realised it was getting longer and longer and longer. So I decided to do a redhead post of my own. I have a lot to say on this topic!

I'm red. Mum to reds. Sister to red. Cousin to red. Niece to red. Red, red, red. I'm sure other hair colours aren't quite so life defining.

Mum to reds. On hearing 'it's a boy' after a 40 hour labour and emergency CS, first words out of my mouth (croaking, manic, some weeping): 'has he got red hair? HAS. HE. GOT. RED. HAIR???'

No, no, they soothed, no red hair.

They lied.

Ranga, Ginga, Bunsen Burner. Ginger, Rude Red, Flame Thrower. Blue, Rusty, Fireball. Carrot Top, Big Red. Woody, Cherry, Fanta Pants. Ronald McDonald, Strawberry, Duracell, Little Orphan Annie. Ginger Ninja, Bozo, Sunset.

Heard 'em all.

Let's face it. Carrot tops are an acquired taste. They have to be really, really gorgeous to even be in the ballpark. There is nothing more unattractive than an unattractive redhead. Conversely, there's probably nothing more stunning than a really lovely redhead. People either love 'em (like crazy, beware the redhead loving male (RHLM)) or loathe 'em. And boy, do they loathe them.

The irony is that it's probably not even the hair colour that makes Ginger Ninjas so outcast. It's all the bits that go along with it. The pasty white skin, the spotty freckles, the lack of eyebrows and eyelashes. The red pubes. I'm just saying.

Do I like my children's red hair? Do I like my red hair? Do I like red hair in general?

Maybe. I dyed my hair a darkish brown once when I lived in England and I really missed being a ginga. I hadn't realised how much it puts you in the spotlight and I missed the red light when it was gone. I felt, well, ordinary. I had failed to appreciate how nice it is to be regularly complimented on my hair or what a great conversation starter it was. I had failed to appreciate that being different, standing out, not fitting in, is not such a bad thing at all. Truth is, being a redhead is a major part of being me.

That said, I think my children are attractive DESPITE the rude red. They got lucky in the gene pool because EVEN THOUGH THEY GOT MY RED HAIR, they also got their Italian daddy's dark eyes and lashes, non-glow in the dark skin and (thank god) eyebrows. I hope this will see them through. I hope they'll be okay. I hope they develop a fast sense of humour about their rude redness. Otherwise, the playground is a remarkably dangerous place for those wearing Fanta Pants.