Odd Days: Channeling my inner Dolly Parton

As long as I'm revealing secret desires (Harley, for example), I'm going to put my *most* heartfelt desire right out there on the blog for all to see: I have always wanted big hair. So fervent and vocal has been my yearning that Durf went out (many years ago) and bought me a giant rabbit, thinking it would provide solace, in some weird way. And indeed it does. When my yearning overwhelms me, I bury my face in Big Hare's big hair and shed little tears of self pity.

So what about a wig, I thought. Well, I've tried on a few wigs in my day, and as you can see, below, I ain't no Dolly Parton.
















I eventually decided the solution was to have a professional fitting, and off I went to the local wig shop. Once there, I found myself at the back of a long line of cancer patients. Embarrassed by my inane desire in the face of actual need, I bought a hat for a friend who was undergoing chemo and scurried away.

(Apropos of nothing, my friend hated the hat and the clerk at the wig store stole my credit card number and charged a bunch of resume-printing costs -- at $1.19 a pop -- to my credit card. All in all, it was not a satisfying experience.)

Today, four years later, I went back to the same shop (why? well, it's the only wig shop in town) and found myself alone with the wig fitter. She asked me if I was going through treatment. Once again feeling guilty, I responded disingenuously that I expected to be losing my hair...soon. Technically it was not a lie because I've signed up to be a chemo buddy and I have every intention of doing the sympathetic head-shaving thing. ("See, somebody actually looks worse than you do with a bald head.") Of course, there is a distinct possibility that the sight of my baldness will do her more harm than good. Hence the need for a wig.

And besides, I want one, as you now know.

So I tried on some wigs. Pictures to follow...some day...probably. Stay tuned.