After wearing an assortment of hats and beanies over the
winter months, I now have the dubious honour of being the first person in
Portland to take a wig from the newly-established ‘wig library’ at the Portland
hospital. After discarding the long blond wigs, or those with streaky curls, I
have settled upon a short conservative style.
Now you would think that a wig is a wig is a wig, but
things are seldom as they seem.
Firstly there’s a net liner to put over the head, making
sure it fits directly over the hairline.
So far so good.
Then comes the instruction sheet for the wig, with
helpful suggestions like:
* Identify the front and back of
wig
*The label always goes in the
back
*Gently rock the wig back and
forth until it is sitting on the front hairline
*Be cautious when cooking.
Keep your head away from hot ovens and stoves
*On a windy day, a
scarf/beanie/hat can be tied over your head and under your chin
So it all takes longer than expected, and I am quite
surprised at how sensitive I feel about wearing a wig! What is it about women
and their hair? Why is wearing a wig different to simply putting on a hat?
Anyway yesterday I was finally ready for my first public
airing of the new hair so I headed off bravely, clinging to Brian’s encouraging
words. But as we pulled up outside the church my worst fears were realized as
the mild breeze had developed into a gusty sou’westerly, and I had no
difficulty whatsoever imagining Brian having to stumble after my wig as it
rolled into the gutter and quite possibly watching it tumble across the road
onto Nun’s Beach, into Portland Bay and finally into the Southern Ocean (where no doubt it would provide shelter for some sort of sea creatures).
Fortunately no
such dramatics occurred, and after a few kind words from friends, I was able to
forget all about it – that is, until we arrived home and I started to think
about heating up something for lunch, and I remembered with caution the instruction sheet.
Off with the
wig, and on with a hat!
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