I won’t blame this latest episode on forgetfulness.
First, you have to understand that I sometimes wear a clip-on ponytail.
What’s wrong with the real thing, you might wonder.
My hair is very fine, so when I make a ponytail, it’s kind of skimpy.
However, for a small price, I can buy a fuller ponytail to clip on over the natural one. It just looks nicer. I have a short one and a slightly longer one; I also have a clip-on curly bun, just for variety.
Many people think it’s funny that I clip on hair, or that I have “portable hair,” as a lady in one of my doctors’ offices calls it.
I don’t mind if you laugh; I’m going to wear them no matter what people say.
For months, I had been wondering what became of my favorite clip-on ponytail — the short one.
I knew I wore it to my dad’s house when I was home for my mother’s funeral. I didn’t discover it missing right away, but when I did, I made a point to look for it the next time I visited.
But it was nowhere to be found. I knew my dad hadn’t been in the area of the house where I had been but it wasn’t anywhere I could remember putting it down. I couldn’t imagine what had happened to it. Could it have fallen out of my suitcase in the car? Fallen out of the car while I was unpacking? If any of those unlikely scenarios occurred, you’d think I would have run across it at some point.
Two years passed and my dad died. A friend and I were at his house going through paperwork and bags, trying to clear things out to sell the house.
“What’s in here?” my friend asked as he rummaged through a garbage bag he found in a closet. He pulled out a scruffy blonde wig, put it on and began speaking in a falsetto. It was hilarious. I explained he was wearing a wig that belonged to my aunt. Somehow, it ended up uncared for and in a bag in a closet at our house.
Then, he withdrew another item and said in an even more mysterious voice, “What’s this?” and held up my long-lost ponytail.
“It’s the ponytail I lost,” I said, and grabbed it out of his hand to clip onto my weak, skimpy one that was actually growing out of my head.
“Wow, that really matches!” he said.
“Of course it does, it’s mine,” I said, explaining how I’d lost it.
However, I can’t explain how it ended up in a bag in a closet with a full-blown wig that hadn’t been worn or cared for in years.
I don’t believe I forgot about putting it in a bag. In fact, I believe my dad or my cousin, in an effort to straighten up the house, stuck it away, thinking it was a useless old relic.
I’m happy to have it back and happy to have an explanation, even if only a partial one, for what happened to it.
LEE WARD can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or (606) 326-2661.