Wig Alert! (and other compliments)

Wig Alert!
I was walking down this kind of funky street in the city where I live, and as I passed a group of teens (why is it always teens!), they started to yell, WIG ALERT! WIG ALERT!  I ignored them, but they followed me for about a block, saying things like "do you think its alive"?  "I wonder what he feeds it".  "Do you think its on backwards"?  "Maybe he doesnt know its up there".

Compliments
1) Passing a nicely dressed guy on the street, as we pass he  says, "Nice rug, man"

2) walking down the steps in a train station, a guy coming up the steps says, "Oh, THATS undetectable"

Is that a toupee??

While visiting London I was riding on  the lower level of a doubledecker bus.  A bunch of about 8 teens came down the little stairway from the upper deck. As soon as the first one saw me he turned and said something to the others.  They all came and stood just over me, and the first one said, "IS THAT A TOUPEE"?  I ignored him.  He asked it again, louder.  People were looking.  I pretended not to notice (here the hearing aids come in handy), hoping no one would know it was me. He and some of the others kept asking, "IS THAT A TOUPEE"?  Finally I got off the bus!

Fine Art

One day in the early '90s, I worked late.  About 8 PM I left the office and went nearby to a Rustler Steak House and had the salad bar for dinner.  I still had my tie on.  As I was eating I noticed a table with 3 young guys eating and laughing a lot.  After while they got up and left, and as they passed by my table, one of them dropped a paper napkin on my table.  I thought that was really rude.  They went on out.  Then I noticed something written on the napkin. I picked it up.  On the small folded part was written "MR. NECKTIE", with a drawing of a smiley face and a tie.  Well, I thought, thats kind of cute.  Then I opened up the napkin,and inside was this elaborate drawing of big curly hair and the words, "THE WIG KING".  I looked outside, and the 3 guys were standing out there watching me, very amused.

Finding A Barber

Finding a new barber is one of the very worst ordeals for me.  I always used to buy my hairpieces from barbers, so that it was all very convenient.  The barber would sell and fit the hairpiece, and I would of course go to him for periodic hair-cutting. This all changed a couple years ago when I bought two hairpieces on sale at a discount hairpiece place in Florida while I was vacationing there.  Went I went home, I didn't want to go back to my old barber because I thought he would be mad at my buying my piece elsewhere.

 Its my belief that modern hair stylists generally have no idea how to cut the hair of a hairpiece wearer.  I searched the Yellow Pages and finally located a barber shop just a few blocks away that I had never noticed because its in the lobby of a high-rise.  I called - I hate this part - and asked if they knew how to cut the hair of a hairpiece wearer.  He said he did. I went in. He was VERY old, which I took for a good sign, believing that the old barbers who have been around a long time know more.  One thing I did not like was, he asked me to take it off. Generally barbers leave the piece on so they can see as they are cutting my hair how it blends in with the piece.  Also,
its kind of embarrassing to take it off.  Fortunately there were no other customers.  I took it off and he cut my hair. When he had me put the piece back on, he fussed with it awhile and said he really should cut some of the piece.  I said
I'd prefer he not do that (since the hair in the piece will not grow back!!!).  I was reasonably content with the hair cut.  I went to this guy for 15 months, and he finally got me to agree he could cut the piece in the back. BIG MISTAKE! You know how hairpieces are kind of tapered in the back so the barber can comb it in ?  Well, he cuts it straight across in the back, and now it looks like a bowl!  Not only that, but I wear my good one when I go to the barber so he basically ruined my good one (ok, ok, I know that I have no such thing as a good hairpiece, but its all relative, ok?)
All of this time he still had me take it off each time he cut my hair, which I never did get to like.  So the final straw comes when he tells me the barber shop has been sold to a lady who is going to make it into a beauty parlor, but she is going to let him keep his barbar chair back in the corner.  I can just picture going in there for ahaircut and having all these ladies watch me take my piece off.
  Once again I was faced with the ordeal of finding a new barber.  Once again I went to the Yellow Pages and I wrote down a list of about 10 barber shops within about a 10 block radius of my home.  I set out to check them out.  A few were stylists, which I eliminated.  I saw one shop below ground level and loooking in the windows saw a couple of old barbers.  I called then and asked if they knew how to cut with hairpiece involved.  The guy said, no, sorry.  I kept on looking.  I was getting depressed. I hate calling a barber shop and saying, "hi, i wear a hairpiece, can you cut my hair???".  I toyed with the idea of getting rid of it.. I was near despair when I walked past an old fashioned-looking shop with one older barber inside, and no customers.  So I drew up my courage, walked in and said, "hi, can I get a haircut"? He said sure.  I said, "I wear a hairpiece".  He chucked and said, "Yes, I know".  So to make a long story short - this guy is great.  He cut it just right, and even though I have to take the piece off, usually in front of several customers,  I think he is a keeper.
 I hope he lasts a few years!  Life is good.

A Highly Reflective Surface

I was out drinking with some buddies from the office.  One of them had been present for the "Gone with the waves" incident.  There were 5 of us.  We had quite a bit to drink!  When we finally left the bar, we stopped at the new apartment of one of the guys - the guy who had been with me at the beach.  He suddenly came up with a can of Lemon Pledge.  Apparently this had been worked out in advance, probably while I was in the bathroom at the bar.  The other guys grabbed me.  My hairpiece was removed forcibly, and my head was polished to a high gloss with the Lemon Pledge.  They announced that they were going to keep it and bring it to the office the next day. I must have freaked out, because they settled for simply tossing it out the window of the 2d floor apartment.  I dashed down and retrieved it. 

Here are the first 17 pictures.  More to come!

Gone With the Waves - A New Beginning

About a year  after I started wearing, I went to the beach with some friends, whom I had not known pre-wig and with whom the subject had never been discussed.  I was feeling pretty cocky, having worn a piece for 2 years without catastrophe. It was just a day trip.  I thought I had fastened the rug down pretty well with extra tape.  Well, the 3 of us were having fun in the ocean.  I dove into a wave... and came up with my bowling ball gleaming in the sun!  Frantically I looked around, but of course, it was gone!  My friends dissolved into gales of laughter.  I spent the rest of the day wearing a baseball cap, which they spent the rest of the day pulling off my head.  In those early days I didnt know enough to always have a spare piece. That had been my only one! I took Monday off, frantically calling my barber, only to realize the universal truth - barbers are closed Mondays!  Now I was desperate.  Tuesday morning I HAD to be in the office for a big meeting. I didn't know what the barber could do for me anyway. I guess I hoped he would have a piece in stock that I could wear.  But, this meeting I had to be at, started at 9:30 and the barber doesn't open until 10.  This was like a really big deal now, and basically what I had to do was start over again.  I went to the office bald - and not only bald, but with my white head usually covered by a toupee set off against my sun-tanned face.  This destroyed my year of image-building in one fell swoop.  I was able to reach the barber by phone, but he confirmed that he had no pieces in stock that would suit me.  We started over again, with the measuring and the fitting, and I was a bald-headed 24-year old for 6 weeks until a new piece came in and I started all over again - from then on I have NEVER been without a spare.

The Bitch in the Dry Cleaners

BY THE WAY, THIS IS THE LAST ENTRY UNTIL I GET SOME COMMENTS.  IF NOBODY IS READING, I'LL STOP WRITING

I was waiting to pick up my laundry.  There were two clerks, each helping a customer.  I stood behind one of them. I was next in line.  The other clerk finished.  The lady in line behind me stepped around me and went to the other clerk. I exclaimed, "I'm next".  She replied, "Tough, I'm here now".  I said, "I can't believe you're so rude".  She said, "Well, at least I have my own hair!"
I lapsed into silence.

Part 6

About 10 AM that morning a young guy who worked for me asked if he could see me.  Keep in mind that I'm gay, and I had an eye for cute young guys. I had become friendly with this guy. He was nice and friendly (and VERY cute), and we would sometimes go out for a drink after work, and had even done things like go to a baseball game.I had been to his house and met his wife.  Anyway, he sat down and he said how sorry he was at what had happened last night. I thanked him.  He then said that he had wanted to talk to me for some time but hadn't known how to bring it up.  I told him to go ahead.  He asked me if I had been aware of  how others viewed me, as it related to my hairpiece. I said (blushing by now) that I hadn't really thought  much about it. He asked if I thought it was undetectable.  I repled that I thought in some instances it was spottable.  He sat back and said he was afraid I thought that.  He said he had talked it over with his wife and she said, and I'll never forget this quote, "You've got to tell the poor man the truth".    So I told him to go ahead.  
  What he told me that day pretty much changed the way I have viewed myself ever since.  Put very simply, he told me that the whole view of me that people had, came down to the toupee.  It was the central part my image.  He told me that I had no idea how spottable the topuee looked but that invariably people who had met me for the first time would later later say that either they had been warned about the toupee but still couldn't believe it, or had not been warned but should have been.  He told me that he didn't know anything about toupees, but couldn't I be wearing a better one?  
  Now I had never been real big in the self-esteem department.  As a child I was chubby (still am!), and had various other issues. However, I had been largely successful, I think, in fashioning a public image as a self-assured middle-level manager. This day, however, has to rank as just about the most life-changing of all.  Remembering that I had this amazing head-in-the-sand attitude until it was shattered the night before and on this day, I was suddenly transformed from this successful executive into a toupee-from-hell-wearing loser.  I think it is safe to say I would never again look at myself in the same way. 
  To illustrate how I had tried to ignore my hair situation, let me describe my routine. Keep in mind that I live alone.  When I would come home from work, I would do one of two things. I would either leave my rug on, or I would take it off and put on a baseball cap.  I NEVER went bare, even at home alone.  Also, I didn't look at myself in the mirror when I took it off.  I would stay that way until bed time - either under the wig or wearing a baseball cap.  When I got up in the morning,  the first thing I did was put on a baseball cap.  I wore that into the bathroom while I brushed my teeth, etc. When I got into the shower, of course I took off the cap.  I washed my head thoroughly.  When I got out of the shower, I dried off, including my head.  I cleaned off my head with rubbing alcohol, applied new glue or tape to the toupee, and ONLY NOW DID I LOOK IN THE MIRROR, for it was necessary those few seconds to apply the toupee. That was my pretend-you're-not-bald routine.        

Now at that period in my life I was 53.  My secret goal was to retire at age 55 (I was NEVER described as a workaholic!).  However, events were conspiring to speed up my timetable. Apparently the roast had emboldened those among my staff who enjoyed a good (or not so good) toupee laugh.  Drawings started to appear on the bulletin board with "wig" themes - even cartoons clipped from magazines, when they featured toupees, were found on my desk.    Now perhaps fortunately, various other events converged to make it possible for me to leave the company about a year later. I  negotiated a departure package and off I went.
  As  I found myself at leisure, a funny thing started to happen. I started to get used to who I am - something I think I had avoided facing since I put on that first $40 store-bought wig all those years ago.  I began to relax with the knowledge that I'm a guy wearing a VERY obvious hairpiece.  I am one of those people you see on the street and think OH MY GOD! Doesn't he know how he looks?    Now that I know that, and accept it, I'm a lot happier.  Thats why I have adopted various hairpiece-related screen names and why I actually flaunt it, on line. 
  The other funny thing that's happened is that I'm now basically turned on by being spotted and made fun of! This is kind of weird.  When stuff happens to me, I usually don't react well, but a little later, I get turned on by thinking about it. I've come a long way, I guess.  
  If I had to do it all over again, would I do it this way?  Would I spend my entire adult life under a hairpiece?  Without question, absolutely NOT!  Why don't I change now? Why don't I take it off if I feel that way?  Well, because after 40 years, I can't!  At this stage of my life, if I wasn't the guy in the bad hairpiece, I don't know who I would be.  But, as I said, if i was 23 again, I would not do it this way.   But to end this part of the journal on a happy note, I'm enjoying myself these days and expect to keep on doing so. I know what I look like and I'm ok with it.  As someone once said, the worse your toupee looks, the better your sense of humor better be.
  I have a WONDERFUL sense of humor!

When I write next, we'll talk about some incidents over the years that may be funny/sad/infuriating, or whatever.  Stay tuned!

 

 

Part 5

During the years of my career, I progressed through various levels of satisfactory performance until, by the time the ' 90s rolled around, I was a vice president of the large company I worked for, responsible for the overall management of about 150 people,  Hairpiece-related incidents at work during that period were subtle, and in line with my head-in-the-sand philosophy, I ignored them.  For example, there would be the occasional snide remark about someone ELSE wearing a toupee, with surreptitious glances in my direction.  There was an occasion when I agreed to sit in a dunking booth at the office picnic, and overheard a conversation in the men's room that they were excited about seeing my wig come off in the dunking booth (it didn't). 
       The myriad of little incidents reached a climax on one unforgettable evening, in an event that could not possibly be ignored, even by me!  There was a farewell  planned for one of the managers who worked under me, as he was leaving the company.  The event took the form of an after-work party in the office cafeteria, to which all 150 people were invited, and most attended.  Keep in mind that all of these people worked for me, under various subordinate managers.  The party took the form of a roast, in which various friends and co-workers of the departing manager stood up and roasted him with funny stories, amusing reminiscences, etc.  I was one of the roasters, and gave what I thought was an amusing account of his harmless traits and peculiarities.  As with all such roasts, the "subject" has the last word, after all the other speakers have had their go at him.  So he got up to have his "revenge", and proceeded to devote his entire 15 minute monologue to me and my hairpieces.  He came prepared. He had a flip chart on which he had drawn what he called was a history of my wigs.  He had hand-drawn caricatures of me in what he described as my various different looks.  He had them in stitches.  He told stories of how they all watched for me to wear a new one, how sometimes it would be crooked, and much more that I cannot remember now.  Throughout all this, what was I to do?  I was stunned.  I sat there in front of all my people, with a forced smile on my face, not knowing how to act or what to say.  When it was over he shook my hand.
  How do you go to work the next morning after that?  How do you face the people who are supposed to look up to you?  I honestly don't know how I did it, but go to work I did. 

Part 4

   Several years passed.  I became more and more confident that my toupee was not generally spottable.  Again, looking  back at my photos, what was I thinking!  What I looked like was, a young guy in a very noticeable toupee. But I didn't know that, until...
   There was a farmers market, or flea market,  not too far from my apartment.  It was housed in a long, low building, and was open on weekends.  It consisted of independent booths from which were sold  used goods of all kinds.  One such booth contained used audio equipment, and was manned by two very sexy guys who I believe were in their early 20s. I was 27 at this point. The year was 1969, and these guys were hippie types, with VERY tight jeans, longish hair, etc.  I had just purchased a new stereo set and decided to drive over to the farmers market to see if these guys  (whom I had secretly admired on several previous browsings in the market) would be interested in buying my old equipment.  I parked and went inside.  I went to the booth and asked the guys if they would be interested in my equipment (no, no, I mean the STEREO equipment).  They said they would come out and look at it, so I walked with them out to my car.  They checked over my stuff and then walked away to discuss it.  They were discussing it and as the came back over to me, they were laughing about something.  As they approached, me, one them said to me, and I can still remember the words: "Sorry, man, we can't use this stuff, but we'll give you five bucks for your wig!".  The two of them dissolved in laughter. 
  This was my first experience with what would come to occur from time to time right down to the present.  My reaction then was pretty much what it has continued to be - I turned bright red, mumbled, "No, thanks", and left.  And STILL I didn't get it.  I entered a period of blissful denial that lasted almost 30 years!  Denial that my toupee virtually screamed, "LOOK AT ME, I'M A TOUPEE".  Denial that people were laughing behind my back, denial that I had, in fact, become ridiculous. 

Part 3

  By the time I got to the parking garage I had myself together.  My friend met me there.  He said it looked good.  We walked to the office together - about 3 blocks.  My nervousness increased as we approached.  What would people say? Would anybody laugh?  Well, to make a long story short, NOBODY SAID ANYTHING!  It was a non-event.  Now I had worked at my office for about a year. Other than the one close friend I had made - the one who walked in with me - I had 2 other casual friends.  After a few weeks I brought it up to them and they swore they hadn't known.  One of them said he thought there was something different about me, but wasn't sure what.
  Looking back on pictures of those days, it's hard for me to believe that they didn't know.  In any event,  I developed some self-assurance during the ensuing months.  Then at the office Christmas party my boss decided to have some fun.  Now my boss was one of those one-of-a-kind leaders that you never forget.  He was truly a memorable manager, and I learned a lot from him about leadership and people management.  He was looked up to by others in our large multi-national company and was known as a sterling manager.  He was not, however, without his "impish" side.  He once asked a job applicant who had a bad stutter, "does stuttering bother you?".  Anyway, at our office Christmas dinner that year, among the attendees was an older bald man who was one of the managers in our office (under the leader I've described). Keep in mind I was still a lowly "worker bee".  So our boss comes over to our table and says, "Dwight, let Glen try your wig on!".   I was mortified!! So was Glen! But our boss is not to be denied. What we did was, Glen and I went to the men's room. I took my "wig" off and he put it on (by the way, this is like letting somebody else use your toothbrush).  While I cowered in the bathroom, he emerged to show everybody his new hair.  I heard them all laughing.. Finally he brought it back and I put it back on.  He was very apologetic about the whole thing.  I emerged from the bathroom and returned to my table.  Nothing more was said, and the rest of the evening was enjoyable.  But, from that point on, I knew that everybody in the office knew about my hairpiece.

Starting Out

At 62, it seems like I've ALWAYS worn a hairpiece. It all started one day shortly after my 23rd birthday, when I was walking down the street in Baltimore, minding my own business. A girl passing by, probably about my age or a little younger, who I had never seen before in my life (at least I don't THINK I had. As a gay guy, though, I may not have noticed!) said to me as she passed, "HI BALDY!"

I was devastated. While I had often been teased about something or other during my earlier years, for some reason this comment really got to me. I had realized from about the age of 20 that I was losing my hair but it wasn't something I was able to face, until that moment. Within days I had decided to do something about it. The first attempt at covering it up was to go to a department store and pay about $40 for a wig! The date was Novermber 18, 1965. I can't imagine what this must have looked like, and fortunately there are no pictures. It was a generic, one-size-fits-all device which was held on my head by some kind of springs built into the sideburns! This was something I only wore sporadically while I decided if I wanted to continue on down the fake-hair route. The only comment I remember during this time was when I wore it on a visit with my best friend to his parents. My best friend was sweet enough not to have commented on it, but when we arrived at his parents house and went in, his father took one look at me and exclaimed, "Whats that you've got on your head!?", and dissolved into gales of laughter! I don't remember what my reply was, but according to my friend, I simply managed a weak, and indignant, "Well!"

In any event, after wearing that thing just "casually" for about 6 months, I took the plunge. I looked in the phone book under "hair replacement". I made an appointment with a barber in suburban Baltimore and went to see him. This of course was my first exposure to the process of hairpiece fitting that was to become part of my life from then on. How it works, for the uninitiated, is this: the barber puts Saran wrap all over my head. He draws with Magic Marker on the Saran wrap, the outline of my bald area. Then he totally covers the Saran Wrap with white cloth tape, and finally removes the whole thing from my head. The adhesive tape makes the "mold" of the head hold its shape, and the outline drawn by the magic marker can be seen from the inside. Then he cuts out the outline of the bald area, leaving a mold from which the hairpiece will be made. He snips a little of my hair for color match, and sends the whole thing off somewhere. I have never gotten over feeling embarrassed and kind of humiliated during that process.

So about 6 weeks later, the barber called me, saying the hairpiece is in. I was SO nervous that first time. I went in and endured the "cut-in". The date: May 15, 1966. The hairpiece is delivered with VERY long hair, so it can be styled for personal preference. The cut-in takes close to an hour, as the barber carefully snips and styles. Finally we got it right and I left the barber shop wearing fake hair on my head! Oh, yes, the barber had wanted to shave my remaining hair under the piece, so the tape and/or glue would hold better. I couldn't bear to let him do that. For the next 2 years or so, I said "ouch" every night as I removed the piece. Gradually, of course, the remaining hair disappared, and with no hair to pull on, there is no hurt.

I felt INCREDIBLY self-conscious leaving the barber shop "under a hairpiece". I was dreading going into work the next day. What would people say? I had one really good buddy at work, the only one I had confided in about my upcoming "new look". I called him and he agreed to meet me in the parking garage and walk in with me for moral support. That morning when I got up and got dressed, and put on my toupee for the first real time, I thought I would not be able to go in, but finally decided I had to go through with it. I was so emotional as I drove towards the office.

to be continued

 

 

First entry

I've been wearing a toupee since I was 23 years old. Thats a LONG time ago.  I've had so many strange, embarrassing and otherwise incredible experiences, I could write a book.  I'm going to wait and see if anybody is interested before I write any more!