Dec. 17: Wig Day #1

Every time I touched my head yesterday, loads of hair fell off me. This does not include the bunches intentionally yanked by Terri and Katie D at work and (once again) Jack. In the evening, I pulled and pulled and filled my bathroom sink with hair. I’m not kidding—it was totally full. And kinda gross.

Even grosser? (Tell me, Fancy Lori™, is “grosser” a word?) The cat found my hair stash in the sink—admittedly, I had not hidden it well—and pulled most of it onto the floor and proceeded to play in and with it. That was super-fun to clean up.

I have (or had, actually) a LOT of hair. It’s always been really thick and full. And I still have hair on my head, but now it’s easy to see my scalp. The hair I have left lies flat against my head. There’s still enough that if you didn’t know me it probably wouldn’t look unusual, but trust me, I’m not going out in public like this.

Today is a wig day. My first one. Here’s what I predict will happen:

1. A bird will pluck it right off my noggin. I hate birds.
2. A good wind gust will hit me as I get out of my car and blow my hair across the parking lot. I will have a bit less pride than I need to just let it go—yes, that will be me chasing my tumbleweeding wig onto Market Street.
3. I will turn around quickly but my wig will not move with me, and my bangs will end up in the back. I will then immediately be approached by a circus ringmaster looking for a new side show act ever since The Bearded Lady started chemo herself and became Just Any Old Fat Lady, and I will be The Queen of The Reverse Mullet and the newly-unemployed Kate Gosselin will sue me for stealing her horrible, horrible look.
4. Throughout the day my wig will move further and further back until it falls off. I will not notice, and will end up sitting on it all afternoon while my coworkers are too embarrassed to tell me, and then when I finally leave work my hair will be bent from being under my butt all afternoon and there will be some activity in the hospital atrium I have to walk through and everyone will look at the girl with the butt-bent hair and make fun of her and I will have to yell I HAVE CANCER YOU BULLIES to make them shut up.
5. It will be hot and itchy and I will vow to never wear it again.

I’ll report back later to let you know which of these actually occurred. Wish me luck—I’m really not interested in the circus life.