Being a Ginger

If you’ve been following me long enough, you may remember the days I was a strawberry blonde girl. Strawberry blonde is my natural hair color, but as a kid I was always like “I’m a redhead!” Well, when you’re a strawberry blonde kid, no one believes you.
may 2015 photoI like to joke that God must have been distracted when he was finishing me up because I have all the makings of a redhead, the pasty skin, the excessive freckles, the temper if you push me too far – everything except the red hair. Which is why I started dyeing it, I think. To fit it in with my spirit siblings, the redheads and the gingers.
When I started calling myself a ginger, I’m not really sure. But I almost feel it’s my way of jumping into the redheaded club without actually calling myself a redhead. The funny thing is, womens health people don’t even know the red hair is dyed until I tell them (or my roots start to show). That’s how much I should have been a redhead!
Being a ginger is just my thing. It’s what I relate to. Some people find being called a ginger offensive (I have no idea why, seriously, I don’t know why). I don’t know, I just feel like I was meant to be a ginger. I really am that crazy redhead, with fake red hair. So, I hope for the rest of my life, I’ll enjoy being a ginger.

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