The Heavy Red Beacon

I have always dyed my hair red, almost everyone in my family had red hair, but I did not.  So from middle school on up I was always a red head.  I saw The French Lieutenants Woman when I was too little to understand what the movie meant but I do remember Meryl Streep’s beautiful red wig.  It stuck with me that tragic and romantic figures had red hair.

It was hard to keep red because while brilliant for the first few days, it fades quickly.

I met a boy when I was 14.  He love my perfume (jasmine oil) and long red hair.  I practically had my own sound track.  In my mind’s eye, I was a romantic and ever so tragic figure standing above the ocean with the wind whipping my hair about me.  That boy was my first love, he left me after a few years.  I always figured he would come back so I kept the red hair, so he would know who I was. I kept it in the same style hanging down by back, as I got older it got curly (almost like it was turning into the wig from the movie). For years I kept the hair, destroying at least one vacuum cleaner a year with my huge tumble weeds of red that would be sucked up and butchering the motor.

Almost two years ago I finally asked myself why I was hanging onto pounds of hair that brought me no joy, but had at first been a beacon to a boy to find me, that had become a security blanket to hide behind. No one ever noticed me, they just noticed the hair.  Finally, I think that my hair realized that the boy was not coming, and got on board with my heart and mind.  The blond is back with a vengeance and 14 inches have disappeared.  Have felt light hearted and light headed ever since.