Before I started this blog I had already crossed off a number of things from the list. Due to the food, music, movie and book lists I have not been able to write about these as much as I had wanted. So using the random date function on Random.org I have decided to populate this blog with these posts.
I don’t know what it is about red hair. When I was tiny it shone like a beacon for old women (whom I did not know) to come over to me in the street and regard me in a grandmotherly way. As I grew up that kinda fell away to the point that I have had abuse thrown at me in the street.
The worst incident occurred when I was about 13-14. I was having to take the first of two buses home instead of my regular train because… it’s South Eastern Rail and they have always been a bit crap. A group of kids from another school started yelling abuse me telling me to ‘get off the bus you fucking ginger’. They then started throwing bottles at me. So obviously I got off the bus and walked the bus route so I could just get on the second bus and just get out of that situation. I was so mortified.
Once I reached my full height it began to trail off. I get the occasional twat in a van (it’s always a van or some sort of truck) who yells at me, but now I can laugh it off. In the end, they’re bloody idiots.
This is a long-winded way of saying that for as long as I can remember I have wanted to dye away the ginger. The idea probably first came into my head because of the episode of Rugrats where Chuckie accidentally dyes his hair black and, for the first time, sees what life is like as a ‘normal’. The episode had the moral along the lines of: everyone is unique, embrace it. This was lost on me, I just wanted one less thing that made me stand out.
There was no way that my mum would have let me do this… so I waited until the first year of university to try it out. I even knew quite early on that I would want to go darker rather than lighter. I mean, no one wants to grow into having frosted tips.
So purple is the way I went. This picture is of the second time I dyed it. The first time, when my friends at uni did it for me, I ended up with purple eyebrows after one of them came at me with dye on a toothbrush. Very disconcerting for a guy with very blonde eyebrows. Suddenly I had expression, like one of those Albanian goats.
I stopped after the third time. I had done it and, to be honest, I kinda missed being a redhead. I have a lot of uniquenesses (not a word, but I’m going with it) and having red hair just adds to it. I guess Rugrats was right all along.