Last month I was sorting out my closet and having a bit of a tidy up. The half height built in cupboard – or skyscraper if you’re from The Shire 😉 – doubles as my main store for Lynn clothes (we will ignore the tall ‘dress cupboard’ and half cupboard for tops 🤭) and also impromptu storage for Christmas presents.
My hand fell to an old wig that’s been resting at the back, unworn since before COVID was a twinkle in a patient zero’s eye. I had bought it years ago and while it was not quite me, it was a lovely ‘do. Pre restyle it was shoulder length (see Xmas Do of yesteryear) and after Steph recut it for me, it was more manageable.
A centre parting felt like my features were far too front of house and on show, so going shorter and with a side sweep was more me.
The funny thing about this ‘do is while the colour isn’t my natural shade (I’m more a light brown, or was) and while it’s a synthetic fibre, this wig is probably close to how I feel my hair would be if it hadn’t headed south.
I think I’ve made peace knowing my future is a hat on sunny days and sunblock if not. I wouldn’t say I was unhappy at what’s happened, and really, where would such regret get me? Hence today’s title; not quite blue. Regret seems too strong a word and yet…
There’s a thought that comes back, one where I’m seeing myself from the back while I comb my hair and it’s as per the photo, only real. Yet, I know that will not be. I’m not, ahem, blessed in the hair department, I’m not going full time, nor would I colour it if I had that style.
Yet, the daydream remains. Perhaps it’s the feeling? Being at ease with how I look, knowing it matches what I feel on the inside, even if that guage changes over time.