For almost 20 years, I’ve been wearing wigs. I started losing my hair when I was in my 20s; it’s hereditary, and all the women in my family had alopecia at some point in their lives. I have hair, but it’s patchy and mostly bald in the area on the crown of my head, and I felt I was too young (and, quite frankly, too vain) to embrace the baldness like so many brave women do.
At first, I was really embarrassed by it. My late husband, God bless him, was very blasé about it. He used to rub my head “for luck” (he was also bald so we used to joke about putting our heads together and making an ass out of ourselves). I went to a high-end wig salon to choose one and have it cut and styled according to my face and the size of my head. I had taken time off from work to recuperate from the gastric surgery anyway, so after two weeks, I went back with a new “haircut” as well. The style was as close in cut and color as I could make it, and no one seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t let on (for all I know, I was the subject of the water cooler gossip of the moment, but I never knew that).
As time went on, and I learned to experiment with different styles, I started to feel bolder about it. I didn’t care that much any longer whether people knew or not. Of course, my inner circle knew all along. But I was always uncomfortable about getting compliments on my hair as I didn’t know how to handle it. Should I tell the truth? Should I lie about where I get it styled? I started to realize that it didn’t matter what strangers thought, and it was okay to simply say “thank you” when I was complimented, without elaborating any further. If it was someone I knew and would see regularly, I told the truth: “It’s a wig.” And people were always surprised to hear that. And the fact that I’m writing about it now tells you how comfortable I am at this point. In fact, I was out with friends last week, and a woman asked where I got my hair colored because she loved it so much. Imagine her surprise when I told her! My friend Sue and I have a running joke that when someone compliments me about my hair, I pretend to pull it off my head and say, “Do you want it?”
In talking about this the other day and thinking about the different styles of wigs that I own, it dawned on me that I feel like a slightly different person when I put on a different wig. And naturally when I am not wearing one at all, I feel completely different. It made me rethink the way I feel based on how I look. I’m sure that happens to most people, too, but I have a more pronounced disparity among my appearances.
Now add makeup and clothing to your outward facade. When I lost a bunch of weight, I had to buy new everything, including underwear. What a difference a good fitting and supportive bra makes for your self-esteem. Not to mention your posture! Someone recently mentioned that I was tall, and I had to remind her that I’m only 5’4,” but because I stand and sit up straight, I guess I look taller.
Therefore, when I leave the house, I make a conscious decision about which face I am going to show the world. I wear a different wig to my Pilates class because my head sweats, and I want to save the “good” wig for days when I go to court or other dressier events.
This whole thought process also reminded me that many times, we put on a mask, of sorts, if we’re not feeling our best. Didn’t sleep well? Had a fight with someone close to you? Received bad news? If you’re headed out to a place where you can’t share your emotions, you’ll disguise how you’re really feeling inside so that you don’t have to deal with the questions you might otherwise get from well-meaning friends and acquaintances. Is that being a different version of yourself? I suppose it is.
So, which “you” will you be today? Which version of yourself will you show the world? Are you comfortable with that? We all have a choice; it’s up to each of us to choose wisely.
