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Had I loudly proclaimed the above title in my school playground circa 2002 I might not have been here to write this blog post. OK, Chantry Middle School never had bullies of that calibre, but being in the possession of red hair is historically a highly unfortunate look. In God’s name, why?! In a sea of black, blonde and brunette, red is an exotic shade synonymous with fire, passion and romance! (I realise these buzzwords would be of little help to a ginger male in his early teens but I doubt I have that kind of readership). I am suddenly declaring my love for red hair because I was born ginger and after 21 years of none-colour (see below image), I am ready to return to my roots (titter).

So why, I painfully don’t hear you ask, has it taken me until now to embark on my beloved hair colour? Mostly I put it down to laziness and a bad experience after using an over-the-counter blonde dye that turned my hair unintentionally lime green days before a school disco. A far weaker reason but a reason nonetheless is the persistent and un-called for praise placed upon my non-hair colour from my mum, gran and every single hairdresser, labelling it ‘different’ and ‘tawny’. Tawny belongs on owls and they’re far too wise to be giving a shit about their appearance. I sincerely hope I come back as one.

From carrot top to cynical bastard

I’m also a big believer in leaving things as they are (fair play to tattoo lovers who are happy to live with them, but the prospect of peering upon the image of a wrinkled Mighty Boosh logo in my late eighties would depress me greatly. Why ‘Mighty Boosh’? Because it’s ALL I could think of. Therein is the reason I wasn’t meant to have tattoos). Thankfully, we all go grey so my red hair will not dye with me (titter #2). There are many aspects of childhood I would like to restore, but the most feasible of these would appear to be bringing my red hair #back to life, back to re-ali-ty# (I should explain I live and breathe 80’s music …).

I thought this pathetic ramble worthy of a blog post because if I decide it looks halfway decent and suits my odd little face, I may make it permanent. If this is the case, it would sadly be the most exciting thing going on in my life, in between graduating and moving out. But being a girl, making a drastic change to your appearance qualifies as a ‘big thing’, dammit! Especially as I am more vanilla than a Walls ice cream factory.

Rebecca O’kane