I have been delaying wearing my wig. I am not entirely sure why that is. I know it looks convincing but it really does not feel it. Normally, I am a hair toucher. It is one of the reasons I do not wear hair spray. Getting my hand stuck as I go for the rake through is not a good look. When wearing The Wig I cannot, under any circumstance fiddle with the ‘hair’. At all. Not even a little bit. And this is disconcerting to say the least.
Last week I felt the time had come. Everyone talks about wigs being hot so I chose a coolish day. There was a breeze but not so much of one that I would be worried about hair raising flights. I applied the slap – which has become something of confidence in cosmetic form – dressed wearing an adaptable scarf as a just in case, and stepped forth. The result? No comic moments. No howls of hilarity. No nothing really. It was utterly ordinary. And that was really rather nice. It did feel odd but I soon forgot and only during hot flushes was I acutely aware of it, or when my scalp felt itchy. Scratching while wig wearing is something that I have yet to master.
I was not so convinced that I intend wearing The Wig from now until my hair has grown back but I am convinced enough that I will wear it more than I expected. It was delightful to pass unnoticed. Because whichever way I dress it up. And however much I attempt otherwise. Having no hair means I look like a chemo patient. Wearing a scarf means I look like a chemo patient. Admittedly ripping The Wig off in the car because I was Just Too Hot also meant I looked like a chemo patient but it had the added thrill of causing shock and mayhem to the drivers surrounding me.