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Yesterday I got a wig.

I wasn’t planning on it, initially had proclaimed that I wasn’t going that route, was totally ok being “fuzzy wuzzy” and yet...there I was, toting a little bag of fake hair home, compliments of ACS.
I had attended their class they have, “Look Good, Feel Better”, at our cancer center. I admit, I went for the goodies-you get makeup and stuff to take home, donated by well known cosmetic companies-but I also got some great tech tips about scarves and a cool way to use old T-shirts to make an easy turban. (which I immediately tried as soon as I got home!) They finished with a talk about wigs, how to chose one, care of, etc. It was a good class...I would recommend it.

Anyway, my neighbor and friend was with me, since my car is being stupid(again!), she was my ride but she sat in with the class. As we were leaving she said why don’t we stop at the ACS wig shop on our way out? Oh...I dunno...I said, I wasn’t too hip on the notion. She kept at me like a kid wanting a cookie. Oh alright! but just for a minute.
Most of the wigs on display were most definitely not my type or color, and my friend kept pointing out ones for me that were absolutely geriatric! Jeez! My mom wore her hair like that! Are you insane?

Finally, the little lady volunteer pulled a couple of wigs out of a drawer that were close to my color and much more contemporary. The first one I tried was ‘eh’ and didn’t look good at all...too ‘wiggy’ looking. But then...
I tried the other one, the volunteer helped with getting it adjusted right and brushed the bangs out of my eyes and fussed with the back some and when I got a good look at myself I couldn’t believe it. That was “me”. Me when I had hair. The style was so dang close to what I had had and the color was near spot on. I began to cry. It was an odd sensation. On one hand I was elated at how good I looked, but on the other sad at the fact that it was a wig and not really “me”. The past (how I was before cancer) and future (after cancer when my hair comes back) melded together with no place for the hairless present at that moment. I could have never imagined how emotional it would be, just the simple act of trying on a wig but it was. All the other gals in the wig shop were ooohing and ahhhing at how great that thing looked on my head. My friend kept saying ‘Wow! That’s the gal I knew! It looks just like your old hair!’
The volunteer hugged me as I sobbed like a big ol’ dummy on her arm. The next thing I knew I was leaving there with that wig in a bag.

I have no idea if I will use it that much. I have such mixed feelings about it right now. I love how it looks on me, but at the same time I feel slight guilt about it. It’s weird. One of my friends-an 8 yr. survivor-said she only used hers on Sundays to church. LOL, maybe that’ll be my plan. Although we do have the school Christmas concert coming up...
It’ll take some getting used to, that’s for sure!