Red.

My hair color. 

I feel like rambling.

Why do I dye my hair red? Every male in my life has asked me that, except two. My youngest brother and my late husband are the only two who got it or knew better than to question my "eccentric" behavior.

I was still shitting in my pants when I watched The Little Mermaid VHS one too many times and the tape was officially busted. My parents had to buy me another one. The Little Mermaid defined my life in so many ways, it sounds completely insane, I know...because it is. I wanted to be a mermaid, I was determined to find a way. The only people who had the patience enough to teach me were my Grama and my cousin, Nichole. Grama coached me from the sidelines of her pool, Nichole was so patient and sweet when teaching me how to doggy-paddle. Teaching me to swim meant so much to me, and still does. I became a mermaid. I was Ariel. Free to twirl around underwater with my hair flowing behind me. My cousins and I even had underwater tea parties in my Grama's pool.

I was about 13 years old, fresh out of military boarding school, about to skip yet another grade and embark on the dreaded journey of public school when my Grama took me clothes shopping. There was K-Mart going out of business in the area so we went there. I found a leather Joe Boxer skirt and this box of red hair dye. The girl on the front looked so mermaidish, I had to have it. It was closeout, how could Grama say no. I asked her and she said I was going into high school so I was old enough to dye my hair.

My mother was pissed when I came home with a box of hair dye, but she couldn't say a thing because Grama had said it was ok. A few days later when I walked out the bathroom with my long flowing red hair my mother had tears in her eyes and told me how beautiful I was. No matter how poor we were there were things that were on our list of priorities in our life...my hair dye was now on there with cigarettes, gas, football money, FFA money, and the internet bill.

My roots were showing a few days before my wedding and my in-laws to be let me in the master bathroom with future husband to dye my hair. Before I went to the hospital with my girls to have them, I dyed my hair. I couldn't have roots showing in my pictures, be damned with the three headed baby horror stories, I'm a mermaid. I will dye my hair. I've even included specific instructions on my burial...which include literally being late to my own funeral and not having any roots showing.
I still remember reading The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson and sobbing, it's a beautifully sad story. Between Hans and Walt my obsession with THAT 15/16 year old mermaid is borderline insane...and I love it.

My red hair is a part of me. It makes me happy. If I'm depressed more than likely my color has faded and those roots are poking out. I'd like to think it makes me happy because it's my free spirit shinning as bright on the outside as it does in...but in reality...I'm probably just addicted to the fumes by now.