Meet Sally

I'd like you to meet my new hair. Alan named her Sally. Actually, he named her "Sally Sass-a-lot." He then proceeded to shake her styrofoam head and spout rude phrases. He's a funny boy. Sally is spunky, fun and has a much better dye job than I do. In fact, I think Sally's hair is nicer than mine. It's a good thing. Sally and I will be spending A LOT of time together. Sally is fearless and funny. In fact, Sally is much like me, only she'll never have roots.

I have to say, looking at the American Cancer Society's wig catalog was one of the most depressing things ever. What? A wig for $49? I don't think so. Many reminded me of wigs I might have worn when I was in "Fiddler on the Roof" when I was 17. And I have to say, I may not wear the wig all the time, but when I wear a wig, I don't want to look pathetic, you know. There's nothing worse than a young cute girl with a sad little wig. This amazing wig is courtesy of my aunt- the coolest woman ever. Her hairdresser is some fancy schmancy guy in New York who makes wigs for Jewish women who aren't supposed to show their real hair. I'm not sure if hiding your hair by using really good wigs is what God intended with the rule, but whatevs- I'm a goy- I don't know. So Dov, (that's his whole name, no last name required) made me this beautiful wig. Seriously, better than my real hair. I should be donning this bad girl in about a week.

Thank you, Megan. It's beautiful. And you know, to make my real hair look like this, I'd have to spend an hour. Now I can just put Sally on. There's got to be some perks.