How to Wear Your Wig with Confidence
I make no secret of the fact I wear a wig, in fact I wear several, not all at once obviously. I’ve accepted that my hair will never be anything but a baby-fine covering over my scalp. I quite like wearing wigs, I can do things with my hair that others can’t. Not that I do artistic, sculptured styles or anything, but I can style it before bed ready for the next day. I can wear it short one day and long the next. I can go from day to night in seconds. It does have some benefits.
But of course, we were not designed as humans to wear wigs and sometimes there are times I would prefer to have my own hair.
Nobody has ever had a problem with me wearing one, save for the arse I went on a date with last year, who seemed fine about it, until he realised I was not an easy lay and therefore it became an excuse for him to ditch me. Ok, perhaps the hairdresser too, who advertises services to wig wearers, but then gets mad when they remove it in the salon. Apparently we are to be shamed into having her services in the “comfort and privacy” of our own homes. Screw that. I want a hairdresser who is PROUD to have me, with or without the wig, in their salon.
The main problems I have encountered over the five years are:
1) What if someone knows it’s a wig? So what if they do? Chances are if someone compliments your hair, they are genuinely paying you a compliment. I spent the first three years replying on autopilot “Thanks, its a wig”, which left them speechless and feeling rather awkward. It is rare that if you have sourced a decent wig from a reputable supplier, that they would allow you to leave them looking anything but natural. The problem is to YOU it won’t feel natural, because it isn’t. It takes some getting used to to wear a wig.
I hated my first one. It was acrylic, an NHS special that itched and made me look like my mother’s slightly younger sister.
Then there was the issue of intimacy.
Having worn my wig for five years, I had never had to deal with a situation in “the bedroom”. My previous rendez-vous did not prove a problem as I never stayed long enough, there was never a reason for me to remove it. Ooh er missus!
It became part of my armour, I didn’t like to be seen without it as that is when I felt at my most vulnerable. Of course I removed it when at home, but if a visitor came I would often go running back to my room to put it on so they did not know.
Last year I was faced with the dilemma of stopping over at a friends for the first time. I didn’t know what the sleeping arrangements would be, I didn’t know if they had a flatmate or anyone else who would be there and risk seeing me without. Would I be on the sofa? Would I cope for the night sleeping in it? I tried to prepare myself but having never slept in it, I couldn’t get comfortable. What if I woke up with bedhead hair? I had not had that problem for five years! I resorted to buying a scarf to keep my tresses smooth and prayed for privacy.
When the night came around, it went fine, up until the point we ended up sharing the bed and I laid there, stiff in the dark, praying for sleep to creep in to take my mind off it. I had been wearing it since 6am and it was now 3am the following morning. I had sunken the best part of two bottles of wine and not being used to drink I had hoped that would be enough to allow me to forget about it but it wasn’t. I didn’t have the scarf on, that was trapped in my overnight bag and I was trapped by his arm around me. A snuggly sleeper, great! Then, salvation came, in the form of the sweetest words I had heard in a long time:
“Gem, take that off”
I laid there unsure exactly what he was referring to, there wasn’t much else to take off if you excuse the boldness. He had seen all of me, seen me naked, yet I was not ready for him to see me without my hair.
“No, it’s ok” I mumbled and nestled down.
“Gem, it can’t be comfortable, take it off” he replied and before I could protest again, he had gently started to remove it. I laid there in horror as he took it off, laid it gently on the bedside cabinet and then proceeded to give me a head massage. It was the sweetest thing and in a million years I had never imagined that someone would react in such a positive and sensitive manner. I only hope that anyone reading this can relate to this and is not made to suffer humiliation.
Since then I’ve realised that if a guy cares for you it doesn’t matter if you wear a wig or not. I’ve fully come to terms with it, accept me for who I am. I’m now on holiday in the Lake District and even the neighbours in the next house have seen me sans hair -it was too damn hot to be unpacking the car with long hair so the simple thing to do was take it off. They just laughed, they already know I wear one – hair doesn’t grow that quick in three months haha.
So, if you’re reading this and you are faced with the trauma of wearing alternative hair, embrace it. We have the luxury of changing our style on a whim, never having a bad hair day and on styling hair less than our follicly full friends. Don’t fret about a guy seeing it, if he cares anything for you he will see past it.