My Story

You can believe this story or not, but it is my story of the week before I got
married. I changed the names to protect my friend's secret. Jim and I were getting married
in a church wedding and every thing was going fairly well. I took off two weeks to prepare
for the event: one before the wedding and one after the wedding. The week before was to
take care of the last few details and loose end so it would not be so stressful at the
last minute. Jim, my soon-to-be husband, could not do the same. He was going to be gone
out of town for most of the week to finish a project before we went on our honeymoon.
Before he left, we had one last date, it was hard to see him leave. The day after he left
Cindy, she is my sister and also one of the bridesmaids, convinced me that she should give
me a perm so my hair would stay curly during the entire wedding day instead of using
rollers the day of the wedding. It was fun. We hadn't had much time together since she
left for college.
I don't know if the chemicals were in my hair to long or if my hair couldn't handle the
chemicals in the solution, but my hair felt and looked like straw when she was done. It
wasn't curly like the girl on the box cover. Well, it cut the fun out our time together.
When she left, I was still angry with what had happened and with her. My hair seemed to
make a crunching sound when I touched it. Later that night I put my hair under a baseball
cap that Jim had left at my apartment and went to the drugstore to get some of those oil
treatments from hair. It was almost 1:00 a.m. when I got back. I took a shower and put the
oil treatment in my hair. I left it in all night long. The next morning I washed my hair
to remove the treatment. I was mortified when I finished. The drain was clogged with my
hair! Individual hairs had broken in half! I spent all day crying. Jim called that evening
like he promised. I could see his number displayed on the caller ID. I couldn't pick it up!
Whar would he say when he found out?

I cried all night. The next day, Diane, my maid-of-honor and also lived in the
apartment across the hall, knocked on the door. I forgot, we had a date to go to lunch and
have one last evening as two single girls out on the town. I put Jim's cap back on and
opened the door. She saw the bags under my red eyes and asked what had happened. I just
yanked of the cap yelled "look." Diane stared for about one minute with her mouth open. We
cried together for a long while. I asked her what I was going to do. She smiled at me and
said "We'll figure something out." As we tried different things with my hair, it felt like
my hair was still breaking off. When we ran out of options, there was a lot of my hair
laying on the bathroom floor. Diane looked me in the eyes and said "You could were a wig
for the wedding." I said that "I would never wear a wig." The only people I have seen with
a wig on are old and sick people. You could tell they had a wig on from ten feet away.
Then Diane said something that I will never forget.
She said that she wore wigs and hair pieces every day. Diane had wavy blond hair that
was almost to the length of her bra strap. Her hair was beautiful, shiny, and thick. She always
had the most perfect up-dos and designs. Once in a while I would catch Jim staring at her hair.
I would start to get mad, but I realized
that many times I remember wishing that my hair looked like hers. I just thought that God
blessed some girls and not others with naturally beautiful hair. I though that maybe the
blond came from a bottle but the body and thickness was natural. When I told her that I
didn't believe her, she reached into her hair and pulled out two strips of hair that was
shaped in a circle. I remember an infomercial a few years back when some long haired guy
with a cowboy hat sold the same kind of product. I couldn't believe it when she took the
rings of hair out her hair. Her natural hair was thinner than mine was, before the
accident.
She smiled as she held two halos of wavy blond hair in her hand. She said guys love it. I
still wasn't convinced. A few little helpers aren't the same as a fakey wig. She
encouraged me to get washed and dressed so we could still have our date. I dressed myself,
put the hat back on, then went over to her apartment across the hall. By the time I made
it over to her apartment, she had put the extensions back in her hair. It was stunning. I
knew they were in there, but still couldn't see them. She said that she wanted to show me
something. She took me into her closet where there many wiglets, wig, falls, pony tails,
and a few more halo like the one she had on. I was amazed. All the buns, up does, and
curly tendrils that I was jealous of was siting on shelves. The one that amazed me the
most was a full wig that I had seen her wear before. It was longer and straighter than her
"natural" hair. I always thought that when she straightened it, her hair looked longer
because the waves of
her hair made it look shorter. I was wrong, it was a wig! I was shocked.

Diane took me to lunch at my favorite restaurant. During lunch she didn't bring up
the subject of hair. It was like nothing was wrong. But I felt like a fool with my cap on.
During lunch I noticed many men and some women checking out Diane hair. After lunch I
started talking about hair again. I asked her where she got the hair. She asked if I
wanted to visit the place. I thought it wouldn't hurt to just look.
When we walked into the shop, I could believe all of the colors, style, and length of
hairstyles they had. I asked the attendant if I could try a few on. Diane just browsed and
looked as if she was content to just watch me try a few on. It was hard to pick which ones
to try on. At first, I picked three styles to try: one like Kathie Lee Gifford before she
cut it, a short bob style, and one close to my hairstyle before the catastrophe. The
employee was patient with me and helped me learn how to put on and style them. Boy! Did
they look real. I did not want to wear a wig during the wedding because I though the
weight of the vale and all the other thing going on the wedding day might be too much for
a new wig wearer. Diane suggested an up do wiglet might do the trick. I still had my hair,
even though it was shorter and ugly. After finding the perfect piece that hid enough of my
hair but was small enough to fit with my vale I decided I needed additional one for the
dinner the
night before the wedding. All of the sudden, while I sat in the chair admiring the new me, 
I realized that this will eventually have to come off and Jim will see the real me! Ugly
wire brush hair in multiple lengths. I began to cry again. Diane came up to me and asked
what was wrong. I told her of my fears she smiled and said Jim is a better man than that.
I knew she was right, but I was still afraid. By the time we left, I ended up buying four
pieces: the wiglet, the one that was similar to my original hair style, one that was
slightly shorter but very curly, and a short wig that left my neck bare. The up do was for
the ceremony, the one similar to my original hair was for the dinner the night before the
wedding, the curly one was like hair I wish I had, and Diane and the employee in the shop
talked me into the short one. The said that the short one made me look elegant.
Jim came home the day before the dinner. He did not come and see me because I wanted the
tradition style of wedding where the couple did not see each other before the wedding. The
wedding dinner was at the downtown hotel restaurant. At the diner I wore the wig that
looked close to my original style. I came into the room feeling very self-conscious of my
false hair. Everybody was looking at me! It felt like everybody knew that I was wearing a
wig. I almost ran out of the room. Jim walked up to me and kissed me. He smiled and asked
why I hadn't return his calls. I told him I was sorry and to please forgive me. He looked
into my eyes and knew I meant it, so he regained his smile and said it was OK. The dinner
was great, but I had no time alone with Jim to tell him about you-know-what. The dinner
ended and Jim following my desires to not see each other before the wedding had made plans
to leave without me. I didn't tell him. That night I had the phone receiver in my hand a
thousand time. I felt that Jim needed to know before he went through with marring me, but I
couldn't. I was too afraid.

The day of the wedding was a sunny day without a cloud in the sky. A light breeze kept it
from becoming uncomfortable. Diane helped me with my new up do before we went to the
church. Diane wore the long straight wig. When we arrived at the church, Cindy looked at
my hair and said that my anger was for nothing because my hair turned out fine. I wanted
to tell her, but I was still getting use to the idea of wearing a wig. I just smiled and
said that I was sorry for putting up a fuss. The wedding went great and Jim kept staring
at me. I thought he realized I had a wig on.
At the reception, everyone complimented me on my dress and my hair. People wanted to know
where I got the dress and who did my hair. I told them Diane did the hair. Everybody that
knew Diane said that my hair looks like the great work she does on herself. Many said that
my hair looked better than Diane's did. I would just laugh and say thanks. During the
dinner, Jim must have said that I was beautiful 30 times. I wasn't just the hair, the
dress was expensive, even on sale, and I had spent 45 minutes just on my make-up. But
every time he complimented me I would smile and thank him, even though inside I felt that
I was betraying him by not telling him the truth. I noticed that he didn't even glance at
Diane, even though she was wearing the hairstyle that I think Jim liked the most. We
danced for hours and had a great time, but it was always in the back of my mind that this
hairstyle was not mine. The people began to leave. As they left, many complimented me on
how good my hair
still looked after the ceremony and all the dancing.

Finely I grabbed Jim and pulled him into a small side room that was used as a
storage room for the tables and chairs. I had to tell him. After about 15 false starts, I
told him. Looking in his eyes, he showed concern not about my hair but about my feelings
during the ordeal. He said "but you look great, how can your hair look so great if it got
fried?" I told him it was a wig. He smiled and said "Wow! Really, I like it" and gave me
the best kiss that he has ever given me. I said "You don't mind that this is a wig?" He
shook his head and said he loved me, not my hair. And he thought it was wild that I was
wearing a wig. When we left the reception, we stopped at my apartment to change cloths.
Still not acting like we were married, Jim changed in the kitchen and I changed in the
bedroom. I took off the hair that got me so many compliments and pondered what to do now.
Do I let him see the mess and possibly ruin the honeymoon? I decided to put another wig
on, but which wig one?
Then I remembered what the girls said about the short one and decided to see his
reaction. After fussing with it for five minutes I got it just right. I put on the outfit
that I bought just of this occasion. When I came out of the bedroom, Jim was waiting for
me on the couch. He looked like a child in a candy store when his eyes saw me in my new
outfit and new short hair. He stared at me for a long time. After a while he stood up and
asked if it this was my new hair length after the accident. I told him it was another wig
I had bought. He stared another minute or two and said "Wow" again. We both laughed for a
long time. The rest of the evening is up to your imagination.