Red

Everyone who’s known me for longer than 15 minutes, probably knows that I am big fan of my so-called life. So much so that I even wrote a fan fiction about it.

If you asked me when I was 20, I’d tell you that fan fictions were the most ridiculous things ever written. Oh well, people change.

The thing is, from time to time, I die my hair red, like the character Angela Chase did in the show, on the very first episode. When I do that, I don’t recognize myself in the mirror at all. I don’t think I look good either. It’s just something I feel like I *have* to do as if I had no option. And the feeling takes over me.

Looking back at the pictures from when my hair was red, I was able to see a similarity.

It was red when we hopped on the plane to move to Canada.

It was red through almost all the 4 years in which I had to keep working at a job I hated.

It was always red… when I couldn’t handle things.

It was like I wanted to give Michele a break and let this red-haired person take over for her. I knew Michele couldn’t do it, but maybe this other woman I saw in the mirror could. Michele was probably crawling under a rock somewhere.

So, the other day my husband looks and me and tells me I look calm. Which is always the goal but not something I can achieve on a baily basis.

I looked in the mirror and I saw an old girl with dusty blonde hair. She looked like me. And I knew my husband was right. If I was being brave enough to face the world as myself, I was having a good day.

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