Pompadour

“You’re going to get a toupee”? There was only one man in Pecos way back then who had a toupee and I had not been impressed. I knew why Roy wanted one. He began going bald at the age of nineteen. He was a handsome young man and hated the fact he was going to be bald on the top.

His appointment was in Odessa and he left a balding young man but returned with a very full pompadour style wig. I was in a mild state of shock but our little girls fell to the floor laughing and pointing at him. He was so disappointed because it was quite obvious he thought he looked like Elvis Presley. I really had to be careful but suggested that if I helped him comb it down a bit it might be better. It was, well just a little, but it still looked like a toupee.

Our girls about the ages of four and six left the house and gathered up all their friends to come see their silly daddy. For days we had children looking through the storm door saying, “Mr. Prewit, we like your new hair. He beamed! Honestly, he thought he was gorgeous.

He told me that it was put on with glue and wig tape and would not fall off. He could bathe in it, sleep in it, and take it off once a week to wash it. The first night he got frisky and I think it was to see if the damned thing would stay put. It did. Well, until sometime during the night it came unglued and when we awoke it was glued partially to the top of his head and partially under my armpit. Houston, we have a problem!

His first remark was, “It hurts”, and my response was, “You think that is painful!” “What do you think my arm pit is feeling”. It could only be removed with rubbing alcohol and that was in the bathroom. So, he got to his knees and with my armpit attached we cripple into the bathroom. Thank God the children were still asleep or they might have gone out and rounded up the neighborhood children to come see silly, naked, mommy and daddy.

The bathroom was so tiny so we lay down in the hallway. We talked about the next plan of action and decided if I poured rubbing alcohol down my shoulder it would run under my armpit and free us. After awhile it did work. From then on, he removed it and placed it on the wig stand.

That was the first of so many toupee stories. All include either him losing it or getting it hung somewhere. Life with Roy was always interesting; never boring, but always interesting.

By my friend, Reita Prewit

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