I believe in finding humor in extraordinary circumstances. I believe in pet ownership. More importantly, I believe in always inserting my contacts before putting on my hair. Sophia Rose taught me that.
Since I was always the last person to be ready to go anywhere in a household full of men, I was rightfully dubbed last one in the bathroom by my two older brothers. We practiced the same ritual ever since I was twelve (when the discovery hit me that I not only had the eyebrows that closely resembled the silhouette of two kissing caterpillars, but the unruly hair that I thought only existed in do-it-yourself perms gone wrong in homes across America). After years of strictly following our bathroom regimen, we couldn’t have imagined how much of a loop we’d be thrown for when I was diagnosed with cancer, and all my hair problems came to a screeching halt. Due to the fact that being spotted in public with no more than three centimeters of hair wasn’t an option for me, I had to begin a quest for a wig.
To help with the sudden loss of hair I was experiencing, my family and I went on numerous shopping trips in hope to find an honestly-I-don’t-have-cancer-my-hair just- looks-this-good-naturally hair piece. I can’t tell you how many wig stores we raided; suffice it to say I would cut the number in half if I were looking for a denture and wig two for one deal. Finally came the day when I strolled into the shop where I found the beautiful creation I like to call my wig. There it was: sitting flawlessly atop a bust composed of Styrofoam®. It was love at first application. I knew it was the wig for me instantly because it was the first wig I tried on that didn’t appear to be a misplaced piece of road kill. After I purchased my new hair do, it wasn’t long before I took it for granted; I could style my perfectly manicured hair in one minute tops, look as though I never skipped a highlighting appointment, and constantly received the third degree on where I had my hair done—all that and I never found a single split end! Contrary to popular belief, other than the concern of the wig shifting unknowingly, there are many advantages to wearing a wig.
It was awesome wearing a wig, no frizz in the rain, shaving minutes off my showering time, what’s not to love? One word: cats. One morning while blustering around the house getting ready, I grabbed what was my wig –or so I thought. I knew something was wrong when it started fighting back with a hiss and painful clawing. Needless to say, Sophia Rose and I never got along after the incident. Although, I learned a valuable lesson and/or warning label for wig distributors: Apply contacts before hair.
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