the day my mom discovered her inner redhead

To be a redhead is so much more than to have red hair. In fact, I would argue the colour of your hair has little or no bearing on your inherent identity as a redhead. Despite the discrepancy between having red hair and being a redhead - the connection of inner reality and outer appearance is nothing short of miraculous.

Which is precisely why today was so momentous. It was the day my mom discovered her inner redhead. I should have known - with her passion, her righteousness, her unrelenting, uncompromising, pure, just nature. I should have known as she is the only person I know who looks classy in a Cadillac, covered in paint and drywall mud. I should have known by her boldness, her bravery, her spirit. I should have known by her affinity for red wine and laughter. I should have know by her courage and her love... but I didn't. And there she was today - brave as ever - a redoubtable, radiant, redhead.

I fall into the forementioned category of red haired non-redheads. Waiting, watching, wishing I could learn to live out of such fearless, firey red. A redhead in training, if you will.

But she doesn't even need it, the hair that is(red or otherwise). She is beautiful - bald or grey or with a red wig; bright young skin or wrinkly and worn; glamourous or sawdusted; today or tomorrow or always. She's just a beautiful redhead - inside and out.

And if that isn't the case for trying on wigs...I'm really not sure what will convince you.