Wig Wham Bam...

Well, this week I did something I've certainly never done before. No, not swimming with dolphins (although I'd like to one day); not skydiving from a hot air balloon (can't say I've ever really thought about that one) and not even finally sitting through the whole Lord of The Rings Trilogy (I managed half an hour of part one and fell asleep, and have never attempted again). No. This was neither exciting nor daredevil, but it was something I wouldn't care to repeat. Namely, having a domestic with The Other Half over a grey wig in the middle of a fancy dress shop. I kid you not.

On Monday, we went shopping for some bits and pieces (namely a wig for him) for the imminent TedFest party we're attending. Since he is going as old Father Jack, a quick bit of research on t'interweb told us we probably wouldn't get a Father Jack-specific wig, but something along the lines of a mad scientist/Beetlejuice-looking grey wig would do, especially as we could do the finishing touches to the costume ourselves to make everything more Jack-esque. So, off to the shopping centre we trotted to have a trying on session in every costume shop we could find. And by god, it was trying.

Tensions started to fray when we kept having to go backwards and forwards between different shops to compare wigs. Which pretty much all looked (and cost) the same. I'm not sure what The Other Half had a picture of in his head - I'm guessing he was looking for a packet labelled 'Father Jack wig', which I calmly explained several times over we were never going to find and we'd just have to get something as close as we could. Then the argument started when I found a Beetlejuice grey wig - which ok, didn't look exactly like Jack's hair, but we could trim it and it would be ideal. Apparently not good enough, despite the fact that nobody except our friends would see this, and nobody would care anyway if it wasn't an EXACT replica of Jack's mangy locks as they all knew who he was supposed to be going as.

It continued. The Beetlejuice wig just wasn't going to cut it as the picture on the front showed that the scalp of the wig was grey, when it should have been pink. This is when I lost it, there and then in the wig shop with a comedy polystyrene brick in one hand and a giant fake priest's cross in the other. The staff were so bemused by this weird couple shouting at each other over the colour of a wig's scalp that I left the shop and went off to buy a cup off coffee. On my return, I found a sheepish-looking Other Half with a bag in his hand. Turns out, he'd tried on the flamin' wig after I stormed out, only to find that the scalp was in fact pink, not grey. And it did look rather Father Jack-like after all.

I have no words.