MAD, BAD AND OBSESSED WITH PLAID

I'm a redhead.

I'm super proud of this fact. Cause frankly, Gingers rule! However, it hasn't always been easy growin up red. *Suck it Jay-Z, you got nothing on me!* My people are Scottish and Irish. I'm so pale that I sparkle in the sun just like a teenage vampire. And I'm stocky. It's as if God decided to make my calves strong and my hips huge so that I could work in the fields longer...in between bouts of giving birth to one of my many litters of children of course. *Which would be awesome if Braveheart  was looking to find him a wife but men these days usually prefer a little less meat on the bone, or just prefer to bone really skinny chicks, which I'm not.*

Have you ever tried to put a pleated kilt over a big, fat ass? *Sooooo, not a good look.* Neither are the thick white socks that come with it whose only purpose as far as I can tell is to make my calves closely resemble a Medieval Times turkey leg. *These are the childhood traumas that haunt my dreams, people. Welcome to my nightmare.*

I grew up close to the beach in Orange County but instead of surfing, I spent weekends going to The Highland Games, listening to bagpipe music and being forced to eat liver and onions (plus bacon) every Sunday night. And you don't even want to know about the haggis...trust me.

*So, yes, basically I am that little girl from Brave but without the castle and mad archery skills.*

Being that my people are Gordon Highlanders, my entire life I've loved plaid but lately I've noticed that the world is trying to steal its thunder. It's like everyone wants in on the
#PlaidFad. Farmers, Golfers, Japanese Schoolgirls, hipsters, grumpy old men, hardcore punks, popstars, cowboys, A&F douchelords and Ren Faire role players. They are all mad for plaid.

 

 

 

 

 It's not fair, because as a ginger I feel that plaid belongs to us. It's our special right to wear it...not the world's. Redheads notoriously get shafted. We're shorthand for; cranky, unruly, angry, weird, strange, oversexed outsiders. And while *Yeah, that's pretty much true*, who wants to be reminded of that constantly? We lack the ability the tan, we're referred to as Pippi Longstocking by unfunny strangers on the street and we're the step-children nobody wants. At least let us have the fashion we are entitled to.

I say that we should start a #RedheadRevolution and take back what is rightfully ours...plaid! I nominate either Rupert Grint or Ewan McGregor as our trusted leader. Now, who's with me? *If you had deducted with your "scary good" sleuthing powers that my nomination was a sadly transparent and publicly desperate attempt to get either of these super hot gingers to contact me, you would be correct. Way to go Nancy Drew.*

So, problem solved! Redheads will hereafter reign supreme, cloaked in signature plaid which belongs solely to us! Now if I could only find a Scottish man who is willing to date a partner with two legs, I'd be all set.