"That'll do Wig, that'll do."

My daughter's home from college (yea!) and together we restyled my long haired wig on its kind of creepy mannequin head. The wig is looking fabulous and I'm getting much better at styling it.
But it's taking on a life of its own ... in a way that worries my daughter about my mental health:
"Her hair looks better if it's smooth and soft looking."
"Mom, it's a wig, not a she."
"Yes, but, I'm going to put hot rollers in her hair and see how she looks."
"Mom, you called it a she again."
"She looks good with her hair half-up, half-down with this pretty claw clip, don't you think?"
"Mom!"
When I was a kid, I had the Crissie doll, the one with the hair that you could make long or short by turning a wheel mounted in her back (you could get her hair out faster if you just yanked on the pony tail at the top of her head, rather than that tedious wheel). And I had the head and shoulders Barbie doll which came with brush, comb, rollers and makeup. Oh, I might as well 'fess up that my mom was a career hair stylist; I'm working my DNA-inspired inner hair dresser!
My wigs are my new friends.