Being Ginger.

So I guess I haven't really told you much about my physical self. I certainly haven't told you that I'm ginger. Well, there is a fine line in which people disagree most of the time: some would say I'm 'strawberry blonde' because my hair is lighter and not a harsh ginger, but some could say that I still fall under the big umbrella of ginger. (I would say I do fall under this category, it’s easier to get along with people if you just nod your head politely and smile.)

Moving into high school, I found that people were immature and, believe it or not, mocked me for it. Life was hell, but now people appreciate it more and compliments are made regularly. In fact, it was only the other week when I was sat in Costa having a coffee and two little old ladies politely came up to me and asked whether my hair was naturally coloured like it is… I said yes, they complimented and tottered off with their eyes fixed to my hair - my girlfriend, sat opposite, was in stitches.

As well as the individuality of being ginger, I also like the nicknames that typically come with it. ('Firebird' being the most liked on my part.) It just seems to give me a flare and flash of inspiration to give all of my energy and effort into everything I do. There are also the ‘traits’ that are associated with being ginger, much to my liking and agreement. This does apply to being fiery and hot-headed at times with a short temper and being a control freak, but I enjoy those because it makes me, me! There’s also the saying of how gingers are ‘good’ in bed… If you ever come into a relationship with a ginger then you'll have the chance to judge for yourself.

I can’t really separate myself from the rest of society because I’m ginger, but I am a mutation, an adaptation, an evolution? Who knows, all I know is I’m sunburnt, freckly and proud.