The country western star wig has not been cooperating recently. It has developed kind of a 1970s vibe, and the nice curls that stayed above my eyebrow are all dangling down in front of my eyelashes. All the curls were stretched and wonky. Ends: ratty and tangled.
“This is it for you, wig,” I said. “You’re all clumpy. Maybe there’s one last hope for you. I know I’m not supposed to do this to you, but I’m going to brush you out.”
I put it in a headband, obviously, and now I’m thinking I could take some scissors to it.