Harriet arrived sometime in the middle of March.
She wasn’t unexpected. Indeed I had been looking forward to her arrival for a couple of weeks by then. Even so, our first meeting was measured and just a little uneasy on my part. There was of course the preliminary excitement of it all and I still remember the first time we gently touched. But within no time I was overcome with an intense apprehension and concern that accepting her as part of my life would bring.
I took her into the guest room and she sat quite happily by the dressing table. The mirror casting a delicate reflected image of her hair. And there she stayed. Just sitting quietly and waiting. She was innocent yet complex; beautiful but bewitching; intoxicating and alien all at once. Each personality seemingly reflecting my own perception of myself.
Of course, we both knew that this status quo would have to end. It was just a question of time.
I eventually made the first move. An attempt to get to know each other better. It was a disaster, lasting less than a minute. Harriet was now wearing a headscarf but it didn’t help. She was still there, patiently waiting for me, taunting and tantalising me with the promise of what might be.
Now, as I look back I can see how our first encounter was fated from the start and so I resolved to take a more organised and regimented approach for our next rendevous. Eventually, I took a deep breath, told myself not to be so soft, and we tried again.
I applied some make-up before I went into her room and entered feeling reasonably good about myself.
After 10 minutes of fiddling, tweaking and twirling I sat back and surveyed the result. I actually looked quite good. Not like ‘the me’ I had grown used to. But good. In fact, I almost liked it. After an hour of looking in every mirror I passed, and there are quite a few in an average home, I plumped up the courage to go next door but one to show my best friend and we chatted on the doorstep for a good two minutes before she noticed. Then, to top it all, my son made an impromptu call. His expression never changed and he made no comment whilst I just wished for the floor to open up and avoided the subject altogether.
It was a week later when he asked why I had been wearing a wig. Saying he knew (of course) that it was a wig but that it looked good and that I should wear it. Even going so far as to say that he would be happy to be seen with me. Now, how’s that for an endorsement?
It has been a long slow start to my relationship with Harriet.
But we are getting there and she is becoming a valued part of my life. She has given me the confidence boost that has helped me face my life and my future with hope and self-assurance.
Who knows, summer may even see Harriet getting a playmate.
Love Janet x
Thank you for all your lovely comments. The wig is called Trendsetter and is by Raquel Welch. The big test will be in August when my granddaughters come to stay. The younger one at 8 will definitely shoot from the hip and tell me exactly how it is. Take care all.
You do look good. (I hope you putting plenty of that beautiful writing in to the world too).
So beautifully written I was mesmerised
I love the way you wrote this Janet. Truthful and honest. The first time you see the wig that slowly becomes your friend – following the initial shock; you describe it so well.
Well done.
I’d love to know which wig you are wearing – it looks great on you.
What is the wig the lady is wearing
Beautifully written, it absolutely suits you and looks very natural. Wigs changed my life for the better I love them. So much easier than visiting a hairdresser and styling yourself.