That's how exclusive it is.
Through a series of rather unfortunate events I was led to this secret society. So secret, that most of the members are unaware of their involvement in it.
I'm not sure if I would go as far as to say I belong to a cult... but it's probably close.
Sorry, hows this for the first post I've written in 5 months? Last you heard from me was "Y'all stop being Cray Cray." and now I'm all like "hi, I'm in a cult-like thing."
Let me explain.
just over a year ago I experienced a rather traumatic (my life is easy) occurrence in which my hair decided to fall out. Ok, well it broke off really short. And continued to do so for months. At first it was hardly noticeable. I had a little fuzzy patch and luckily there was hair to cover it. No big deal. And then... it became a big deal because it wouldn't stop and soon I was missing a third of my hair and it was a total crisis because I loved my hair and I really wasn't that mean to it and I just didn't understand why it was doing this to me because obviously I didn't deserve this and this is what they meant by cruel and unusual punishment and I was constantly crying because every morning another chunk would break off and it was a very hard time in my life.
*Breathes deeply*
It's fine. I came to the conclusion that this was not ok, and that in order to stop the constant turmoil my life was experiencing, I would just cut it off. then it couldn't fall out. So, I cut my hair. It was short. I cried some more, because most of my hair was about an inch and a half long. BUT it wasn't falling out anymore. My plan had worked.
And so it grew and grew and grew but didn't get much longer, and grew some more and then I had this mullet thing going on so I cut it and it grew and grew and I WAS SO BORED. There are very limited amounts of things you can do with short hair. I got really good at curling it, so that's a plus. But, I like doing things with my hair. I hate doing the same thing with it every day and only really having one other option and faux hawks were cool but probably on other people not me, and it got too long too soon to keep up with all the punky styles that look so good with short hair and I hated it.
So, in an effort to combat the monotony...
I dyed it.
Red.
First, everyone commented on just how RED it was. Like it was some huge surprise. and then, the fellow red-heads began to take notice.
in a very
unusual
way.
When the compliments from the non-red-haired people stopped, the Gingers began to move in. People that had never noticed me before were suddenly drawn towards me, fascinated in the trait that we now shared. They taught me the secret code of making finger guns and saying "nice hair" with a wink and a sly smile. This was pretty much the only requirement to be inducted into the Red Hair Society. If you could follow that routine every time you see someone with red hair, then you were good to go. The shade of the red does not matter. Whether we come by the color naturally or not is no concern. We love all people with red hair, and slightly look down our noses at all people that do not have the fortune to be one of us. We're a little narcissistic. And I worry for the ramifications that may occur when I choose to leave this Red Hair Society... I mean, IF I choose to leave. Feel free to join us any time...
and remember - Finger Guns.
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