When my family and I had accepted the fact that I would have to wear a wig to hide my growing hair loss, I was the tender age of nine. This was the mid Sixties and long straight hair was just becoming all the rage. I pictured picking out a long, flowing wig that would be the envy of all the other fifth graders in my class. So when my mother took me to a wig salon that also sold wedding attire, I was told that they didn't have any long wigs that fit my small nine-year-old head. We finally settled on a light brown wig with bangs and a turned under bob.
Now this was a very expensive human hair wig, and it was like buying a 100% wool suit. We had to buy a wig form because it couldn't just lay around when not being worn. It also had to be curled each night,and they sold us some sort of hair spray that made it stiff and smelly. I hated looking like I just walked out of a beauty parlor with big, poofy, Dolly Parton hair. And it was very heavy on my head. So, because I would sweat, I would have to get it cleaned - professionally cleaned. Which meant we had to plan when we sent it away to be cleaned because I couldn't - wouldn't - go out without it. It would come back smelling like chemicals, and whoever cleaned it would "poof" it up and tease it into a style any respectable old lady would appreciate.