Just An Accessory

When the door closed to the wig room of the Jean Paul Salon and the "wig lady" said, "So why are you here?" my only response was to cry. I am not even sure why. Maybe mostly because I felt the closing of the door symbolized the end of my femininity for a while. On the other side of that door were women getting their beautiful hair washed, cut, colored and styled, so many of the things that make us feel girly. On my side of the door, girly was about to be stripped away by synthetic hair. Thankfully, I wasn't in there long before my girlfriends showed up and turned that room into a celebration of synthetic (except for the one that looked like a mullet). That little room became a safe place for an hour. Then the door opened and I became nervous again, passing by some long highlighted layers, a blond high ponytail, a head full of curls for pre-wedding approval. By the time the stylist started cutting I knew it really didn't matter how it turned out because if it was awful, I wouldn't have to deal with it very long. By the time the stylist stopped cutting I knew it would be a while before I sat in that chair again. Bittersweet. But when I saw the final product I felt relieved. It's not so bad. And losing it in a few weeks will not be so bad. My femininity is going to be compromised but not depleted. I don't need hair to make me feel beautiful. At the salon, my girlfriends made me feel beautiful. When I got home, my husband and son made me feel beautiful. And reading all of your comments make me feel beautiful. Hair is just an accessory. And I've got lots of accessories.