Red

For my next post, I shall transform into a somewhat stereotypical teenage girl talk about my hair.  For those of you who don't know, it's straight, brown, and a little past shoulder length.  I like to wear it in a sort of Juno-like pony tail most of the time, don't ask me why.  For the most part, I like my hair.  Pretty much every female I admire is a brunette.  Tina Fey, Hermine Granger, Princess Leia, I could go on.  

Although, I must admit, ever since I was about four years old I've wished my hair was red.  And I'm not talking about ginger red.  I'm talking apple, firetruck, cherry, ladybug red.  Actual red.  Why?  One word: Madeline.  

You know, that cartoon/book character?  The petite French girl who lives with a mysterious nun and eleven other similarly clad girls whos hair colors are not nearly as awesome as hers?  

Inexplicably, I've always wished I had hair that color.  The other day, in fact, one of my friends took a picture of me and photoshopped my hair into a glorious flaming crimson... pile of hair!  Oh, don't mind me.  I'm suffering from a horribly annoying adjective to noun deficient-proportion-type-thing today.

Anyway, I don't think I'll show you the picture here.  And no, it's not because I simply don't want to show you what I actually look like sans-sunglasses because it might ruin the fantastic mental picture of me you've probably conjured up by now of a tall, gorgeous, skinny model type person who blogs between her photo shoots and saving the whales.  Really, it's not.  It's actually because the dog in the picture isn't mine, and his owners might not appreciate him being on the internet for all the world to look at.  Nope, It's not the first reason at all.  It's for canine privacy, I tell you!