I was born with a blue face and red curly hair. No lie. My blue face was attributed to the fact that I came out not breathing. Every year for my birthday, I hear two stories. My mother tells me about the day from her perspective – waking up in bed with contractions, her water breaking, rushing over to the hospital to give birth to me by mid afternoon. My dad’s story is a bit different, and rather more dark. He never tells me how they got to the hospital or the process it took for me to be born – leg cramps and back spasms and pushing. He tells me how he thought he had lost me. There I was, all pushed out and gooey, and my dad is worried not about my mom or the doctors, but for me because I have not cried. The seconds tick by and sweat builds on his forehead because the doctor whisks me over to the table (I’m still not crying) and starts pumping my lungs. Finally, when my tiny lungs are free of goop, I let out a tiny whimper and then a cry to the greatest relief of my dad. The first one ever concerned for my life, my dad was also the first one to hold me. See, I had to be kept in an incubator for awhile to be monitored which means my mom didn’t get to see me till later after I was cleaned up. She always compares that to my brother who when he first popped out got be set on my mom’s chest all nasty and white with gunk on him. That’s gross. Just saying. I don’t have any kids so I don’t know if something slimy like that is really precious or not. Currently, it’s a big no for me.
So. I was born with a blue face and red curly hair. To my mother’s joy, I was gifted again from my dad by getting his shock of red curls. I sidestepped the entire bald-baby phase and inherited a full head of bright hair. When I found out the first time that my mother cried when she found out I was a girl and had red hair, it made me smile. I’ve appreciated my hair color ever since. Sure, I’ve highlighted it blonde before and I’ve cut it short or put in a perm, but I always come back to the original color. Right now, I’ve let it grow out and really take on the deep essence of red that it has matured into over the years.
As I grew up, I fell in love with all colors but have held on to a preference for red. I tell most anyone I meet that my favorite color is black. Black, in pigments, is the absorption of all color. In the light spectrum, black is the absence of all color. For these two qualities, black is my top color of choice when it comes to laying out an answer for the most-asked question in humanity. ( I like to explain why. ) But, if I were to be truly and 100% honest, red is my favorite. I love red flowers and birds and a striking red sunset, but most of all, I love the gorgeous red of natural hair like my own. I used to keep my nails painted either red or black, but have started branching out into other colors and find it refreshing. I’ve even added additional colors to my wardrobe. Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking: “Oh geez, she’s one of THOSE girls who only wears black.” Well, ha! Because I’m not. Not anymore, anyways 😛 I’ve adopted the rainbow into my style and am happy with the results. I wore hot pink today with white ziggity stripes and even GREY skinny jeans. I didn’t know how hot pink, when tapered with a lighter color to accent, could go so well with red hair. I always assumed that red-heads should avoid pinks and corals, but ha! I guess I have the perfect shade.