A hairy situation

Hair malfunction

I came home the other day to find some ginger hair in the bathroom sink and the house as deserted as the Marie Celeste.

Then Groover came home – he’d had to make an emergency dash to the local electronic store to replace his clippers.

Where’s your beanie when you need it?

He could have worn his wig of course.

And in fact did later that night when we went to a comedy fundraiser at the Hollywood Bowl(ing Club).

I couldn’t stop laughing as person after person failed to recognise him.

And the wig is sooooo fake!

Wig anyone?

Wigged out

Hair today, gone tomorrow


It cost $20 over the internet, it’s stripey – a bit like my old ginger tom cat, Samson, in fact it even looks a little bit like a little animal curled on his scone – it twinkles in a “I’m made of synthetic materials” way in the sunlight, and apparently it’s a little hot and sweaty, and yet…

And yet, I don’t hate it.

His own mother didn’t recognise him.

I’m long used to the hair deficient nature of my bloke. 

His male pattern started when he was around 17 and by the time I met him (aged 25) the writing was on the wall.

I simply don’t care.

In fact, running my hands through a full head of hair these days would feel… a bit wrong.

And the thing I’ve always appreciated about Groover is his acceptance of it.

It’s so attractive in a man, don’t you think?  In anyone I guess.

I would much prefer to have a man with no hair, than say a man with lots of hair and a fat beer belly… or a man with hair and no sense of humour.

How dreary would life be?

And frankly I would be continually running out of shampoo and conditioner – as it is, Groover doesn’t use it.

So I was surprised that I didn’t hate the wig as much as I thought I would. 

In fact, I forget it’s a wig (I know that sounds unbelievable but it’s true), and just accept it as Groover within minutes of him putting it on.

It’s even confronting when he takes it off for a minute or two.

Not that he wears it often – just to stir his mum really and only within the house.

It makes me wonder what he would look like with a proper wig – one made of real hair, one fitted properly.

The question is – would it turn me off in the bedroom?

Wigging Out

Groover bought me two wigs for my birthday. What an awesome present! I love wearing wigs and up until now only had a blonde one to have fun with.

My new wig from the back Front of wig

I wore the black one to watch number one son play cricket yesterday and my friend said … how on earth did you have time to get to a hairdresser (as she’d seen me at 6pm the night before and it was now 8am in the morning).

Normal hair

And before you start worrying… no I don’t have a dread disease… apart from ridiculous amounts of grey hair… I just like dressing up.

Red wig

I’m going to wear the red one to Groover’s Christmas Party where I’m playing a saucy barmaid called Mad Rose (they have a pirate theme going on). Can’t wait!


Yes heeellloooo daaaahling! Mwah Mwah. Note image (right) from Western Suburbs Weekly. One could be cynical and say that it took a blonde wig to get into the social pages or simply be honest and say that lets face it – I rarely go out.

There are no social photographers at bridge (and just as well as I wear my ugg boots on cold frosty nights).

In fact I think it was the wig – it kind of stands out in a crowd and considerably adds to your height.

Far from being the wallflower as per, this one night I was photographed 3 times although once the Slimes realise that both the Worst and the WSW have published my tresses, they may choose not to run it.

And now I have something in common with my gorgeous daughter. We are both blondes!