Getting Wiggy

This morning my B started complaining about losing his hair - which he isn't, or anyway it's not obvious like my sad, balding head - and I told him, hey, you can borrow one of my wigs.

The thing about going bald is, it’s kind of shocking no matter how prepared you are for the shedding. I scare myself these days when I catch an unintentional glimpse of my balding head. 

Who is that odd, alien, bird-like creature staring back at me?! The time has come to wear a wig.

Maybe I'll take a lesson from Andy Warhol. No one wore wigs better than him. Sure there have been others since him, but he was the first to boldly go where no one else dared: Obvious Fake Wigdom.  

What began as an effort to hide his early male pattern baldness became his trademark persona. Warhol just wasn't Warhol without his iconic wigs.The more fake they looked, the better. So if he had to re-adjust his wig in public, no biggie. We were all in on it. There was absolutely no pretension that his hairpieces were real. 

I could go the Andy Warhol route...

... but I'm not looking for a trademark look. Mostly, I just want to blend in and not scare myself or others. But I do like the idea of not worrying about a natural look. Maybe I should skip the ordinary and adopt Japanese Harajuki style...

... except I’m not 15 years old. 

I've never been a blonde. Maybe now's my opportunity to find out if blondes really do have more fun. 

So I gave it a test. I wore a blonde wig to a basketball game. Truth be told, I had fun, but did I have more fun?

I know I shouldn't be stressing about wigs. I need to concentrate on what's important (is the chemo working?).  Just get a wig already and be done with it! 

As it turned out, while I was procrastinating and putting off The Wig Situation, my dad called out of the blue. He offered to take me wig shopping, which we did, and it was probably one of the weirdest and more memorable things we ever did together.

So I got a wig. I got two. 

I was joking when I offered my B one of my wigs, but he let me put one on him and he looked, well, for a few minutes my B was my very own brunette Warhol.