Absolute panic gripped me. Did he read me? Why was he staring at my wig?Had I made a terrible mistake? Was I in danger? He asked me why I was sofright...ned. That is when we reached a catharsis. I stated that I couldsense he was disappointed with me and I asked him why. His answer wasdirect but slightly eased my dread. "I don't like your wig" he said. Itold him it was the same one I wore in the bio that he responded to. We chatted for another 10 minutes, during which time he continued tostare at. I looked worse than I had thought. I still had small parts of my eyebrows and uneven beard fragments at the ends of the mustache. The word mange came to mind. With hairless arms (I used to be really furry), pink skin, and bald head I felt like one of those CPR dummies. The only thing that felt decent was the shirt, which I realized was made of some almost silky blend. It looked like an up-scale polo shirt. The soft-blue color was a bit weird, but it went well with the jeans.Margaret came over. More

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