By Jamie at XOJane.com
“It doesn’t even look like a wig,” my intern said, trying her best to be reassuring. “I couldn’t even tell.”
That is, of course until, the darn thing fell off my head.
Except for the occasional set of braids, I’ve never been a weave girl. But lately, I’ve been toying with idea of “going natural”, so I’ve been trying out alternate hairstyles during my “transition” period. My half-wig, Sheila, has been a godsend. Yes, I named my wig.
I’ve got a full head of hair so I don’t rock Sheila out of necessity as much as I do for convenience. She just makes life so much easier. Like a Batwoman for the bad hair day. Can’t get that side part just right? Call Sheila! Bangs looking a bit blah? Sheila’s got it. Too lazy for the flat iron this morning? Sheila to the rescue! She’s a big, curly “Number 2,” full of life and personality. She’d never done me wrong, until she did.
On that particular morning things weren’t looking good. Dealing with the two different hair textures (curly-coils and straight) can turn even a pony tail into a war zone. I was battling between new growth and relaxed strands. Nothing was working. On the brink of frustration and tears, I threw on my trusty Sheila (or so I thought) and left for work.
During our mid-morning recap of reality TV shows and on-going conversation about hair, the unthinkable happened. Somewhere between the Stevie J love triangle and rehashing my hair that morning, Sheila decided she’d had enough. My half-wig silently and ever-so-gently slid off of my head and to the floor.
Now mind you, I was sitting down when it happened, not doing jumping jacks or swiveling neck exercises. I wasn’t doing anything to upset Sheila. I was just talking. And Sheila shut me (and everyone else) up.
Mid sentence I felt my wig exit stage left. There she was at my feet, laid out in all her curly glory. Oh my God, I thought. That really just happened.
Ladies, have you ever experienced a wig mishap? Share your stories!