The other day at Robina

I was observing some fake moles at a novelty shop. These came with hairs on them, not unlike the one on my brother's face, which I fear mine may morph into.

Someone then stroked my hair.

Now, C is very much a cat person and therefore has a habit of stroking my head and scratching me behind the ears. I have long learnt to stop taking offense at this and instead accept the fact that there will come a day, when he kisses the cat and pats me on the head.

ANYWAY. I turn around and this old lady is standing there, with an expression of utter horror, her hand still frozen in the air. Her grandson stood obliviously nearby. "I'm so sorry! Your hair looked too nice to be real! I thought it was a wig and I was going to pull it off!"

At this I looked around, wondering if I had unwittingly placed myself in the wig section. This is a novelty shop, after all. Nope, no wigs.

I suddenly recalled the time I was 12, innocently checking out some books at the PJ Big Bookshop when someone hugged me from behind. Like full body hug. Then a kiss on the head. You should have seen the guy's face when I turned out not to be his girlfriend.

"That's okay. It happens to me more often than you think."