After I was cheated upon by my husband of twelve years, my self-esteem was in jeopardy of hitting rock-bottom. I thought of myself as a good wife and perfect partner. I was in good shape and looked ten years younger than my true age, We rarely fought, had a group of fun friends, entertained at our gracious home and shared many interests. These included playing tennis together as doubles partners, traveling and even eating his favorite Greek salad in front of the television.
So what was wrong with me? What did the home-wrecker have that I did not have? Intellectually, I knew that this was not the correct inquiry, and certainly it would do me no good to pursue it. But I felt old and tired and unattractive, so it was time for a drastic move.
Some women have a plastic surgeon on speed dial and call for an immediate appointment. Others enter into major retail therapy and up-date their wardrobes while maxing out their credit cards. Still others drown their sorrows in Louboutins.
For me, it has always been all about my hair. I worship thick, shiny, glamorous locks which fall effortlessly past the shoulders or pull back into the perfect ponytail. I have never had hair like that. Mine is thin and tends to frizz up at the slightest hint of rain. I spend much too much time and money with experts who cut, dye and style my hair, only to have it look only okay.
So I decided to investigate hair extensions. There are many options, all with unwanted side effects like hair loss or breakage. But after visits to several experts, I found the mecca of hair weaves. This man does all of the major stars, young actors included, and has a technique of sewing long, thin pieces made of real hair to tiny balls that are attached to your own hair. These have to be re-attached every five weeks as your own hair grows out, but the pieces themselves are reusable and last several years.
Of course, it is expensive and a commitment of time. But I knew that this was my form of therapy and would give me back some of the self-confidence that had vanished as a result of the destruction of my marriage.
And while it sounds a bit superficial, the result was spectacular. I had long, luxurious hair that looked like my own but on steroids -- a dream come true. I flipped it proudly with a flirty attitude as I began dating again, and it provided me with a huge boost of confidence in a time of need.