WIG- a double entendre


i was a junior in high school when for the shakespeare competition i was cast as the part of puck in "a midsummer night's dream." my instructor, mr. jolley, had outfitted me in a very androgynous outfit and i was given a very blonde,very short wig. i was a piece of work and wish i had a picture to show all y'all.

anyway, the night before we headed down for the competition we were to take our costumes home and iron them, if needed, and pack them with all of our stuff we were taking with us... basically, they were our responsibility. which is why, when i got to school the following morning, i wigged (see i told you there was a double meaning) when i realized that i could not find the wig anywhere!!! i spent that whole morning calling my mom to check, tracing my steps and looking in every nook and cranny. to no avail. the poor thing had probably fallen out of my arms, the night before on my way out of school and landed in the middle of the hall, only to be picked up by some idiot teenager that went dragging state street sporting my puckish do!

i was in tears as i shakily approached mr. jolley's very ominous office. i let it out as quickly as i could and then braced myself for a lecture... which either he never gave or i can't remember because the painful experience has since been blocked from memory to protect my psyche. but i do remember that in a very mr. jolley way he asked, "well what are you going to do?"

probably the wrongest question someone could ask me in a situation such as this. peeps... i'm a worrier... and i'm also a fixer... combine the two and you have a MESS!!!!

which is exactly what i was the entire 4 hour bus ride to the SUU campus. i couldn't think of anything else. what was i going to do? the wig cost more than $60 and came from some costume shop in salt lake... too late to do anything about that now. so what else? my hair, in high school, was down to my waist... who was i kidding to think i could hide my "luscious locks" enough to look like i was an "it!"

i was back and forth with my friend carrie (who was so nice to enable my worrying by worrying with me) about what to do. i was sick to my stomach. mr. jolley had placed all responsibility of this costume on me and i had blown it! i couldn't let him down again. halfway through the trip i finally decided to have another chat with the jolley man.

i sat next to him on the bus and once again unloaded my barrage of "beat myself up" remarks-- after all i had to let him know how remorseful for my stupid mistake i really was. then i told him how i was planning on doing my hair... he sat patiently as i pontificated... then his only retort was...

"you worry too much... stop worrying about things you cannot control peggy."

wait. what? didn't he tell me this was my problem? even if he hadn't i probably wouldn't have heard t anyway and would have felt just as responsible. because here's the sitch:

i do... i try to control things i cannot control. why? dunno. probably to help myself feel less vulnerable. or maybe i am too uptight in the small details of life to let things just happen as they will happen.

the sad thing is, when i do this, i end up missing out on the very joy of life that surrounds me on a daily basis. just like the trip down to the competition, while i was wigging out over this small detail all of my friends were laughing, joking and making memories i would never share.

so the ending of the wig saga? yeah, so when we got to the hotel, carrie and i put my huge hair in this braid that looked like a crown on my head and then found sticks, leaves and some dirt and threw it in there to look earthy. we ran to find mr. jolley who only laughed when he saw how much effort was being put into something he'd just told me not to worry about. i was baffled by his reaction... yeah because i still didn't get it (it has taken me YEARS to get it).

the following morning, i answered the knock at my door and there in front of my face was a very blonde, very short wig. no, it wasn't the same one. but the minute i left mr. jolley's office he got on the phone to his wife, who stopped by the costume shop and picked up another. but, just so i wouldn't forget this experience, he was letting me sweat it out.

sweat, yes... freak, yes... WIG OUT, yeah that sounds more like it!