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letter from the editor: June '07
One Night Only
My hair is the only part of my body that can honestly be described as too thin. "Fine" is the word hairstylists use, and they usually tack on "but there's a lot of it" as consolation. In fact, there's nothing fine about my hair. It is limp, wispy, and needs about half a can of mousse to be reasonably presentable. But I accept it for what it is and
have never gotten a body wave or worn extensions, pieces, or wigs. Until last week. A friend was having a birthday party, and the instructions on the
invitation were succinct. You could wear anything you wanted as long as you wore a wig.
My friend Candy suggested I go as Marge Simpson. "Talk about a wig!!" she emailed.
I put in an order with a costume shop before it occurred to me that maybe I didn't want to wear a towering blue beehive all night. Every woman knows the unwritten rule of