Secretly Auburn

Some have a thing for blondes, some for brunettes, and the women in my family are all secretly redheads.  Strange how our follicles do not always agree with our nature.  My sister, Miss C, is a caramel brown (I think); Mother is a peanut brittle; I am a 70% dark chocolate brown.  And yet, when we seek to make a change, spice things up by changing our hair color, we invariably turn to the reds and auburns.  We could go blonde.  We could go dark.  But, no.  These ventures, of course, lead to... interesting results.  We have seen Crayola orange, Crayola red, Pippy Longstocking red, and even purple.  How does it become purple?

Perhaps our natures really are reflected in our natural colors.  Caramel is rich and sweet, and what seems to be a little bit stretches for miles in generous helpings.  Miss C is like a caramel truffle with her smooth, cloying syrup belied by a solid, almost bitter exterior.  She is generous to a fault, giving more than perhaps she can afford, stretching so thinly as to be easily torn.  Mother, too, shares this quality, breaking herself into as many pieces as possible to share with everyone.  She is a tough cookie, but delicate and sweet and a little nutty (I love you!).  Here am I, a little dark and serious-minded- an acquired taste, but I go great with fruits and nuts.  Together we are a yummy, little PAYDAY candy bar.  Delicious and addictive.  Why must we constantly try to add cayenne and red pepper?

I do not care!  Ha!  And you thought I would Prose and Philosophize through half of the day.  However, let us watch out for those purples, my loves.  Purple is not red.  Perchance we might also invest in a pillowcase specifically for the days directly succeeding the dying of our hair?  It just may save worries over ruining our good pillowcases.

Note:  This article has been an introduction into a Laundry Challenge!  Mother has called me a Scientist and charged me with finding a way to eradicate the Purple stain from a pillowcase.  Scientist, maybe.  Mad Scientist, more accurately.  Hopefully, she will not be forced to ask herself in shocked realization, "What.  Have I.  Done?"  This should be fun!



Copyright November 2010.