I saw this video on Facebook Wednesday.
The comments are mean and vile.
I would laugh.
But the way my karma is set up…
..I will refrain from the perceived comedy.
Here I am with my wig fully in place.
Here I am with my wig not fully in place.
Let’s take a trip back to that fateful day back in 2013. I overslept from my nap, rushing in a panic to get to a show that was a 45 minute drive away. The spirit ALWAYS talks to me right before I am about to do something silly. This time was no different. I shook the wig, threw it on, adjusted the part and walked away. Then something told me to return to the bathroom. I looked on the sink, and there were 5 bobby pins from the last time I wore the wig. The spirit said, “Put the bobby pins in.”
Me in response to the bobby pins.
I exit the bathroom, ignoring this gut wrenching feeling urging me to put in the damn bobby pins. I didn’t have time for all that. Instead, I reach for a hat in my drawer. A little hat, knitted by my aunt, was enough protection, right?
The spirit in response to my disobedience.
I get to the event, feeling uber confident mainly because I had lost 60 pounds and ready to debut it in front of people I hadn’t seen in a while. I give out the proper greetings, then take my seat, browsing Twitter on my phone, ready for the show to start. Well, the music starts playing and if you know us Greeks, we run to the floor and stroll. I didn’t feel like it, to be honest. At this point I had been out of school for three years and was content with living life as a lowkey Greek. The one who shows up, takes pics, hugs the new sorors and leaves. Well..a baby soror asks me to party walk (choreographed dance in a line). Me thinking I’m still 21 and can lead the front of the line, takes my happy behind to the front of the auditorium. Soulja Boy’s Donk begins to play. (my shyt!) Just as the beat drops, I lock my arms, stomp my foot and cock my head to the side.
My head, the wig, its wig cap, and the hat were all at different parties because each of them went in separate directions.
It was like a chain reaction. You know in a movie when someone gets shot, it takes them a second to realize they’ve been hit? Same thing here. It took me a split second to realize what had happened. To my horror, everything happened in slow motion.
Exclusive image of me once I realized my wig was no longer on my head.
Remember the spirit? Yeah, it also told me not to put on the wig cap with the holes in it.
I was looking like Fire Marshall Bill.
And to top it all off, there were like 30 people in the audience who watched me scrambling.
One girl looked at me as so.
My wig fell to the ground just like Ricky’s lottery ticket in Boyz in the Hood before he died.
After this out of body experience, I reached down, picked up my wig, threw it back on my head and ran away like my head was on fire.
When I got home, never wanting to be seen in the public eye ever again, I text my friends about the nightmare that I was living. Because they, like my self ain’t shit when it comes to serious moments that are hella funny responded simultaneous in our shady group text, “TYLAH! Glad I wasn’t there because I would’ve laughed.” and “OH. MY. GOD! Are you okay? I would’ve laughed too.”
Luckily, this happened almost three year ago and everyone wasn’t as glued to their devices ready to record me as an unwilling viral star.
So. This story really has no conclusion. I began wearing wigs as a crutch because a.) I didn’t feel like maintaining my natural hair and b.) they gave me confidence, especially around men. I felt like I could be any person I wanted to be with the choice of a different wig style. Wrong, I was still me all along.
As I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs, I’ve learned to rely on my natural beauty and let the rest take its course. But importantly, I haven’t laughed at anyone who’s had to live down a public embarrassment. Up until this point, it was fair game. I found humor at the expense of others. I learned this day that karma is an equal opportunity hater.
In closing, don’t be like me. Pin your wigs down..securely.