My red hair was the bane of my existence throughout my entire childhood. Classmates would tease me about my “orange” hair (it’s exactly the color of a penny, really; not new or old but in-between), and strangers would rub it for “good luck.” One particularly awful moment occurred when Ronald McDonald singled me out during a parade—I was four or five—and shouted, “Look, red hair, like me!” He blew me a kiss and mortified me, a very shy and easily-embarrassed kid.
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