August 15, 2010

• I wish I was a ginger

  It is a sad reality of my mediocre (but fruitful) life, that I was ripped off genetically.

  While I was born with the genetic traits of the average, but extremely cute (as evidenced by my school photographs up to the 7th grade - things got a bit ugly for a while there), Australian child, somewhere along the way, the gene that would have transformed my average head of hair into an impressive mound of red and made me just a little more special, got a little lost and bypassed me completely.

  For the sake of creating a more entertaining story, let's just say it nipped off to the pub for a bit of Dutch courage around the time of my conception and subsequently forgot where it was supposed to be after closing time.

  Honestly, who among you hasn't been in that position?

  My hair is pretty much boring brown (except for those bits at my temple that are starting to go gray as I become wiser) and I really shouldn't have brown hair at all. It's just not right for me.

  For starters, both of my parents had heads of jet black hair. My older full blood brother has a dirty blonde thing going on, while my younger brother can be more or less classed as being blonde (physically, not mentally) but you can see the red in there if you can get close enough and don't mind him gnawing on your forearms. One of my half brothers was a bit of a strawberry blonde but when he grew a beard, it was very red. On the other hand, my other half brother had the jet black of my father. Where my brown comes in is anyones guess. For some reason, red hair is definitely a part of my gene pool, albeit way down in the shallow end.

  I know that, deep down inside, I'm a ginger. Like me, gingers are unique characters, often ridiculed by society for being different and where venturing out into sunlight is a disaster waiting to happen. As such, I fit into that role perfectly. Ask anyone who knows me well and they'll tell you how left of centre I can be, how much I am ridiculed for no reason and after 10 minutes in the blazing Summer sun, I resemble a bipedal boiled lobster - exactly the same as your average everyday ginger.

  Red headed people are given a hard time by everyone. There really isn't a reason for it, but it does seem to distract people from their own troubles and our ginger brethren are more than happy to be whipping boys and girls if it helps out the cause. The fact that they seem to tolerate the term "Ranga" when being talked about shows a strength of spirit that demands admiration from the rest of society.

  I do not in any way endorse the use of the term "Ranga" when referring to gingers - I find it to be a stupid nickname and whoever came up with it needs a good flogging. Even Wikipedia doesn't have a page for the term and you can find all sorts of ridiculous stuff on that site.

  Of course, there are some gingers who are so embarassed to be seen in their natural state that they go to extreme lengths to look "normal" and fit it - and yes, I'm looking at you Nicole Kidman. Hiding behind dyed blonde and straightened hair doesn't change a thing. You are a traitor to your own kind and should be ashamed of yourself.

  Unfortunately, it's too late for me to move into the realm of the gingers. I would have a hard time fitting in as a ginger sympathiser because my dark hair would stand out like a sore thumb. The only thing I can do is offer moral support to my ginger brothers and sisters and hope that, someday in the future, society will accept them and embrace their difference.

  In the meantime, if I ever find out how my two black haired parents bred blonde haired children, I'll let you know.

  Later days.

  Trivial fact number 215:- Fourteen million people were killed in World War I, twenty million died in a flu epidemic in the years that followed - seems to me that releasing the flu virus would have been a much better and less messy idea.

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