Why I Should Never Dye My Hair Blonde
So, not so terribly long ago, I helped Sarah pack and move. (She has posted quite a bit about this, whereas I have posted very little about anything at all, to the point where I let my birthday go by without the briefest mention. Such is life.)
Now Sarah found many strange and interesting things in little hidden corners of the old apartment, one of which was a wig. A blonde wig. A short, cute little bob of a blonde wig.
Which I, of course, promptly put on my head and wore for long periods of time while helping to pack boxes. It was very hot and humid during the day-of-packing, and wearing a wig, I discovered, was much like having a big woolen hat on your head -- except it's rather more fun, and causes a much more entertaining reaction from unsuspecting friends.
"You know," I said, after seeing myself in the mirror, "wearing this wig makes me want to make this face." And I demonstrated.