My Red Hair

I was born with red hair. Not Daphne Black from Scooby Doo red hair either- more like Pippy Longstocking. Strangers would compliment me all the time as if it were such a rare sighting. I hated it, every minute of it. I would cringe every time an older adult would start doing the crouch-walk toward me because I knew exactly what they were going to say "you have beautiful red hair, I bet you hear that a lot". I would just smile and nod, but deep down I resented my red hair.

I think the main reason why I felt so strongly about my hair was because that's how everyone identified me ("Meg with the red hair"), not to mention the obvious target on my back for the mean girls. I would pray and pray that my children would not have red hair so they wouldn't have to go through what I went through. I'm not saying this to get sympathy, but to emphasize my strong feelings on the subject.

Then, I had my daughter.

​Oh hey, perspective...

One of the many, many things that I love and adore about her is her hair. It is so beautiful, and she gets it from me. My entire life's feelings and emotions about my hair are completely null and void. Savannah has gorgeous, silky strawberry blond hair with perfect little banana curls. I wonder how she'll feel about her hair as she gets older. I wonder if kids will still be cruel or if she'll be strong enough to face them head on. I wonder if she will pray that her children don't have her hair. I understand that I can't protect her forever- a tough pill for any Mom to swallow. I can give her the guidance and the tools to react confidently and appropriately. She is already so strong and so sure of herself- untainted by her environment, the media, etc. Can't she stay like this forever...?


"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns,  or rejoice because thorns have roses." - Aphonse Karr


Meg


Is there anything you didn't like about yourself growing up that you've passed on to your children. Have you had a change of heart? Comment below!

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