Too Much of a Good Thing

by Samantha
(MD)

Growing up and going through school, I'll admit that I was not particularly attractive. It was a devastating combination of being overweight and my soul-crushingly poor fashion sense. After I graduated high school, however, I got my act together, lost 30 pounds (and am hoping to lose more), cut my waist-length bright red hair to a cute bob, and invested in an entirely new wardrobe. I'm nowhere near a fashion model, but I'm proud to say that I'm a far cry from the chubby little ginger I was when I attended my Alma Mater.

Also since graduating (I'm 19 now), I've been playing around in the Real World at my almost-full-time McDonald's job and have been exposed to an entirely new set of people.

Which is where the problem starts.

When I first started working, I was blessed (and still am) with the early-early morning shift. As in, getting there at 5 in the morning. Well, around six o'clock, this group of older gentleman (read: they all easily qualify for Medicare) come in, buy their 53 cents senior coffees, and shamelessly abuse our free-refill policy. Needless to say, it wasn't long before I caught their eyes. Or rather, my hair did.

And I was flattered by the attention, never having gotten that kind of admiration before.

At first.

I've been working there for going on 9 months now and there's only so many times I can be called "Reds", "Red On The Head", or some other equally demeaning variation before I snap. I fit the stereotype of having a short fuse and it takes every ounce of my self-control to keep from so much as flinching when some of the particularly more lecherous men "acknowledge" me.

However, a few lewd comments haven't spoiled the other more courteous compliments that I receive on a near-daily basis from my better behaved customers and I'm not going to let some dirty old men get me down because they can't keep it to themselves. I'm proud of my hair as it makes me unique, but I will never let it solely define me. If others can't see what's underneath of my ginger locks, than it's their loss and they aren't worth my time or energy.

(Even though being called "Reds" really does make me want to spontaneously combust...)