Growing up as a redhead was its own brand of adventure—often more fiery than fun. I’d hear the taunts, “I’d rather be dead than red in the head,” or get nicknamed “carrot top” more times than I could count. But here’s the twist no one saw coming: the red pigment in my hair has proven to be as stubborn as my spirit. At 71, while my peers are rocking shades of silver and white, I’m still flaunting my natural color. Turns out, the joke’s on them—revenge, as they say, is best served red-hot!