Being someone else . . .

I went to a crazy party recently.

Music that took me back to my youth, great food, and an opportunity to be with old friends, to make new acquaintances, and to dance!  A very near-perfect evening.

And in the midst of the the jollities, I donned a long-haired, platinum blonde wig.  (You had to be there.)

Oh, how I loved that wig.  I joked about wishing I was brave enough to dye my hair that colour.  Yet despite much encouragement from my fellow party-goers, I simply can’t bring myself to do that.

What’s stopping me?  Well . . . the effort of the hair dye procedure at a stage in my life when I’ve got thus far without any re-touching or re-colouring of my locks; the thought that the colour might be a little bold for my experienced face; and most of all . . . that the result would be simply too shocking when people saw me anew for the first time.

It’s not usually like me to be guided by how others judge me, but on this occasion, I think I’ve made the right decision and seen sense, and I’ve decided to be content wearing said wig (or indeed any others) at repeat get-togethers where I know it will be made available to me (my party hosts promised!).  In the meantime I can look longingly at the photos and dream about what might have been.

Perhaps a salient reminder though?

It’s OK to wear wigs as long as those around you can still see you for who you really are.

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