What's with the Dreads?

Last night Rebecca came into my room, stared at the dreads wig on my closet door and asked, "Who's is that, and why is no one wearing it?". The answer, as if it were not already obvious, is that they belong to me.

Back in high school (and I honestly cringe as I remember this) I hated being white. Now for this to make sense to anyone on any level, the key to understanding is that I am from Oxnard, CA. In my high school, it was about 60% Mexican, 30% Asian, and then 10% "other", including a mix of white, black, and Indian. So I felt left out, and I thought that I could increase my likeability if I were black. So, I became black. As in, I had someone give me corn rows, I talked as gangster as I possibly could, and I even had the reputation in all my honors classes of being an uh-oh oreo. My best friend through all of this was the amazing Samantha Perkins (now Cabuco). Sam, always trying to outdo me when it came to gift giving gave me this Jamaican wig for my 19th birthday. How could I leave this behind? I couldn't. So alas, it has come to adorn the door knob of my closet. And I do not often wear it. However, unfortunately for me, but for the fortune of everyone else, I was caught wearing it last year on camera. Here, my friends, is the proof that I am (or was) blacker than the average white girl (except for maybe Marie).