As a girl, invisible lace wigs were not forever my personal obsession. Modeling was my goal. This applied till last week when I lost my hair during chemotherapy. I determined that I wouldn’t condone the possibility of living as a shiny-headed version of Demi Moore from New Hampshire.
I imagined that I’d lost myself, robbed of a real head of hair. It became clear that there was nothing I could do to reclaim good hair. Boy, I was wrong. Way before I found my new real wig, I found a great deal of ridiculous fake wigs that didn’t match my scalp. My boyfriend Reginald introduced me to respectable, medical wig websites that carried natural wigs I could wear proudly.
Then I got online and took a good look at their wigs. I discovered an inventory of glorious, high-class real human hair wigs. Their amazing African American wigs suited me best.
Trying on the best hair piece, a proud individual similar to myself would develop fearlessness while overcoming her balding. I’ve never been more excited to display my fashionable earrings. It meant a lot to me to finally go about as I used to on the streets of Manhattan.
It’s possible I’m getting out of hand as I ramble, but hair is integral to who I am. Could there be a deeper meaning to life than a fabulous style of hair? You know, it wouldn’t be right if someone told me otherwise. Here’s the good news: women’s hair loss can be beat!
You couldn’t imagine what this has meant to me. Very few believe about me and my lacking hair. But so it goes, I’m thankfully glad to fearlessly approach my career again. Real human hair wigs enhanced living for me.
Judgmental people might think my sentiment is needy. They don’t know. I don’t care who you are, what creature comforts make existence so worthwhile? For me, the secret is my family and my attention-getting sense of fashion.
Take Care of Yourself,
Cassandra Holton
