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To say I’ve been unlucky in love in my short 25 years would be an understatement.An eternal single gal and third-wheeler, I became dangerously good at being a wingwoman. Content Header .feed_item_answer_user.js-wf-loaded . Gingers, those genetically quirky individuals who make up only two percent of this planet’s population, are just fine.For more info and to stay up to date, check out their Facebook page.For a redheaded child to be born, both parents must carry the recessive MC1R ‘ginger gene’.
But according to barring any major population bottlenecks — a disaster of some sort that reduces a population to a small handful, say — these miraculous humans will continue to exhaust the planet’s resources just like the rest of us.
Candle lit tables, love hearts, red roses and a whirlwind introduction to every single person by Advertise" href="#53068109"Did you know that the redhead gene is recessive and science tells us that it takes two MC1R ginger gene carriers to have a redhead child.
Even then there is only 25% chance that red hair will carry through for their offspring.
A lot of this stemmed from insecurities about my appearance. Like most kids, I was ridiculously cute - shiny curls, rosy red cheeks and a glint in my eye - up until those standard ' I'm going through puberty' years. Hence, my entire primary and high school experience can be summed up in two words: unrequited love. We met in year one during an amateur production of Snow White. I, hungry for the limelight as a camp version of Snow White. From there, my list of former crushes who never loved me back reads like an all-boys school roll call. William with the rebellious streak and Alistair, from the year above. I also realised that guys just don't like girls with red hair.
You've been there, wrestling into a crop top trying to cover up those boobie things. Nope, it definitely wasn't my over enthusiasm or collection of High School Musical stationary.