Why I Don’t Wear Wigs

In middle school, I was getting ready to go on a scuba diving trip. I went to a boarding school, and we were allotted marvelous opportunities to travel within the country (US) and experience bliss. Before that during winter break, I had opted out of getting my usual braids and wanted to experiment with a weave/wig. They gave me multiple options. I could have gotten it sewn in or glued down. I was new to this game, so I chose to glue it down. I thought it'd be easier for me to take it off if I didn't like it. Back then you could glue it on, now I see the game has gotten fancier. They applied a bald cap to my cornrows and then put the glue on before the wig. I'm not sure if it was more complicated than that because I'm not an expert nor do I recall the process. Anyways, I got this done and I was feeling like the best thing since sliced bread.

Fast forward to me being in the school’s pool practicing for the trip with my friends. I met up with my friends that morning, at 9 sharp. We had to practice our breathing techniques, before we would be allowed to go to the Florida Keys. Everything was going well; I watched each classmate do the techniques taught. They put their heads under water and demonstrated their breathing and floating techniques. Then it was my turn, I submerged myself under water. I did so in excitement, I was to float like a fish and demonstrate my superior flooding skills to my peers. Then I pulled my head up, that was impressive I thought. I am more prepared than most!

Inner dialogue: “Wait, what is that? Somebody has forgotten some strange object in the water. Hold on, hold on… hold onnn! Is that my wig?!”

Caution:

The story has ended abruptly because the writer has died of shame!

Mary