Dating a woman who wears a wig
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The one I’ve been wearing for the past four years is part of the problem: Not only is the cut dated, the hair has gotten so stiff and dry that it could probably be mowed into toothbrush bristles. I like looking Orthodox; if I were a man, I’d probably sport a full beard, peyes, and a black hat.
I felt like the Matriarch Rebekah, when Esau and Jacob were pummeling each other in her belly.
The headscarf wearers I met in Israel seemed to soar above this conflict.
“European,” in the unabashedly racist world of sheitels, is the best hair, followed by Russian, Brazilian and, at the very bottom, Chinese, which is too straight and requires extensive chemical treatments to achieve the desired soft waves. That is because in the Haredi world in which I live, a sheitel is like high-heeled shoes: It is a sign that I’m ready to venture out into the world beyond the supermarket.
Yet even after two decades of wearing them, sheitels bother me.
It was during my first solo trip to Israel that the idea of head covering as a regular routine first occurred to me.