Well, the hair-having era is coming to close, patch by patch…I tried to rock the buzz cut as long and hard as I could, that is no longer an option.  So with great anticipation I drove up north and picked up my professionally-designed wig, freshly cut and colored just for me.  It is beautiful – I mean beautiful.  Chestnut brown with golden highlights that catch the light just right and shine…but like a lot of things, it is great in theory and not practice. In fact, I hate it. Yup.  Not digging the wig feeling, it is like wearing shoulder pads (what dumbass man came up with those anyway?) Believe it or not, shoulder pads have something of a feminist history – in that they've always been used to help women keep up with the guys.  Maybe so, but they all remind me of "Bea" Arthur, who didn’t even need them in the first place. Anyway back to the wig…it is so unnatural feeling.  I feel like I am wearing an animal wrapped around my damn head.  And this is, after all, Texas in May, so that animal is hotter than hell! That said, I am in corporate America, and while we may have come a long way, doo rags still don't cut it for client-facing shindigs…so I am going to try again tomorrow with a refreshed attitude toward my Golden Chestnut aardvark.