COMBED THROUGH THE STACK of mail on the kitchen counter. A squishy, flat package piqued my interest. It was addressed to me, but I couldn’t imagine what was Five months earlier, in the throes of debating whether to keep coloring my hair or let it go natural, I had (what seemed to me) the brilliant idea to order a wig. I reasoned that if I disliked how my white locks looked growing out, I could still pretend to have red hair. But the custom color had to be special ordered. Now that the fake hair arrived, I’d come to terms with my natural look.
