I cried to my mother,
I don't want to be blonde anymore.


He liked blondes.
I couldn't change my dating past,
But I could make myself less interesting.
Right?

But she said
You can't change on the outside. Only underneath.
It was supposed to be better that way.

Teachers wouldn't see.
I wouldn't have to answer
Annoyingly personal questions.

So I did the opposite of light,
I dyed the under layers of my hair,
Black.
Then after a month,
Blue.

Just like me back then.

She was right.
They didn't ask because they couldn't see.
Didn't want to see.

It didn't work.
He wouldn't leave me alone.

So I thought,
I'll fight.
Red for blood, red for intimidation, red for fire trucks.
I'll be Red.

I decided to dye my hair red,
And chop it off to my shoulders.

My mother was right,
But it did not work.
Instead I embraced the Red.
I fought.
It took me 6 years to end it, and yet
I am still fighting the memory 5 years later.

But now,
People only notice when I braid my hair.
They ask if I had my hair done, I say no.

Only when I braid my hair,
Do I show the colours.

I was once left in charge of a class of
Literally 20 2-3 year olds.

They were waking up from nap time.
A nap time they went to bed with a
Whole different teacher
Who then asked me
as a favour
To sub for another sub.

I was a dummie.
Huge dummie is more appropriate.

I was 23 years old,
0 children of my own.
A sister in law recently had a kid,
But he was like 6 months old.

I began asking each kid who they were,
Who their sleeping buddy was
And suddenly this easy thing,
It was so difficult.

They didn't know who tf I was,
I didn't know them.

So past me, bless her,
She panicked and did some quick calculations.
She choose to ask the
50 year old teacher across the hall,
For help!

That gal came in like a fecking wrecking ball
A classy one at that.

One shout of "GET UP. PACK YOUR MAT AND SIT."
and past me?
I just bowed my head and said thank you
And I ran out like my rear was on fire.

Bless past me.