Here is the story of a Bad Hair Day. It was Halloween, and my husband was taking my daughter around the neighborhood, leaving me to answer the door and shovel sugar to the monsters, princesses, and other assorted Trick or Treaters.
Most of the kids travel in packs, but towards the end of the nights' visitations a single girl, around 12 or so, rang the bell.
"Trick or Treat!"
She took a piece of candy, smiled at me brightly and said, "Hey, that's a great fright wig!"
I looked at her and said, "It's not a wig."
Astonished, she said, "It's not?"
"No, it's not."
Then I felt bad, because she was embarassed. So I told her I have the world's worst hair, and not to worry about it. I closed the door and I laughed.
Truly, I have always had the world's weirdest hair. So losing it to alopecia isn't such a hard thing for me. But I'm not buying a human hair wig...ever.
What if I got the world's penultimate worst hair?