Growing up as a strawberry blonde, I was quite used to people commenting on my hair. “Oh you have such beautiful hair” or “I wish I had hair that color”. Sometimes people would ask more personal questions like “which of your parents has the red hair?” That one took some explanations, since my mother had black hair and my father’s coif was sandy brown. My oldest brother has the sandy brown, and my other brother inherited the black. So I told them that my locks were from a secret government experiment, and if they even brushed up against them, they would have to go into the Witness Protection Program. I liked that story, because invariably, most people couldn’t just look at my hair, they wanted to touch too.
So one day, I was taken back by a question. I was at the bank with my father, and the teller spied my infamous light ginger hair and asked “Is that your hair?” What? That was a silly question. A million answers raced through my head.
1. Why yes it is, I just bought it yesterday from Harriett’s Wig Shoppe.
2. On no, I am just borrowing it from my Dad. (Who, by the way, was quite bald at the time) We only have one hairpiece in the family and it is my turn to wear it.
3. No, I stole it from the circus last night, along with five juggling balls and a fiery hoop.
4. Actually it isn’t hair at all, I am smuggling a Tribble on top of my head. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get quadrotriticale? I hear it is their favorite food.
5. I got it on a free 30 day trial, and if I am not totally satisfied within that time I may return it, and I get to keep the bonus tortoise shell hair clip as a gift. But wait, there’s more... if I order in the next 5 minutes they will double my order, I just have to pay the extra processing and handling.
6. Haven’t you ever heard of the new wearable Chia pets?
After thinking about it for a little while, I realized she was just wondering if I dyed my hair. So I was polite and told her it was my natural color, and I own the patent rights to it.