Now, it used to be if Minnie wanted to get her hair done, she’d just go over to her friend Tina’s place. Tina was kind of an amateur hairdresser, I guess. She got her husband to set up a little sink and chair down in their basement and she ran her own unofficial hairdressin’ place right out of their basement.
But a few years ago, Tina’s husband Donnie started goin’ out west to work. And dependin’ 
on who he was workin’ for, he might be a month gone and then a weekend home. I didn’t know Donnie that good – shot darts with him a few times. Anyways, obviously, workin’ out west, the money was good, but I guess they couldn’t stand bein’ apart so much. So rather than Donnie quitin’ his job and stayin’ back here, I guess Tina decided to pack up the kids and on one of his trips back, they went with him.
It’s always sad to see one of your friends move away like that, but it was even worse for Minnie, because she also lost her hairdresser.
Now, if you’re a man readin’ this, it might be hard to understand what the big deal is. I mean, if we like a barber we’ll keep goin’ back to him. No big deal. For years, there was a nice old fella that used to cut my hair – you’d walk in and there was all kinds of sports pictures on the wall, the smell of powder and shavin’ cream, with the oldies radio station blastin’ barely louder than an argument about the Montreal Canadiens. But after he retired and closed his doors, I went to another barbershop, and you know what that place was like? There was all kinds of sports pictures on the wall, the smell of powder and shavin’ cream, with the country station blastin’ barely louder than an argument about the Boston Bruins. And as long as ya leave with your hair shorter than when ya came in, then you’re all set, eh?
But with women it’s different. For starters, they don’t just get their hair cut, they get it “done”. Now, I got no idea what that means, really, but if you drive your wife to the hairdressers long enough, after a few years ya start to pick up mysterious words. Perm. Highlights. Layered. Feathered. Bangs. And my favourite, Teased.
Obviously, we don’t know what any of those things mean, but the good news is, we don’t have to. Here’s a foolproof trick – first time ya see your wife after she gets her hair done, give her one of them loud whit-woo whistles. It don’t matter how she looks, just whistle, and then say, “Looks good, dear.” Just remember the most important part about how to fake your way through this is to be sincere.
But god forbid, fellas, there will come a day when your wife comes back from the hairdresser’s and you know there’s no way you can tell her she looks good and have her believe ya. You’d insult her intelligence to tell her a blatant lie like that.
Long story short, that’s the kind of hairdo Minnie came home with this week. See, ever since Tina and Donnie moved out west, Minnie hasn’t had a regular hairdresser, so she just goes to whoever. Last week she was sayin’ she needed a haircut and our neice Cathy says, Oh, you should go to my friend Janelle, she’s awesome.
So Minnie listened to her and went to Janelle.
Well.
The look of her when she got home was such a shock, I burst out laughin’ and said – Did you get in a car accident on the way home, dear, or is that your new hairdo?
So help me, now, I’m not a mean fella by any stretch, it’s just that it looked so ridiculous, I burst out laughin’ and said the first thing that popped into my head.
It’s hard to describe this hairdo, but on one side it was all curled up in tangles like a poodle, and on the other side it was straight with part of it was sort of swooshed over her face, almost like she got hit by a bucket of water.
Of course, I wasn’t laughin’ too long, because Minnie started cryin’ and that made me feel bad for laughin’ – it really did.
Minnie sobbed, She said *sniffle* she said it’ll look better after I sleep with curlers in.
Oh, she was some sight that night, I tell ya. Curlers coverin’ half her head.
The next mornin’ she was practically grindin’ her teeth in the bathroom mirror, takin’ the rollers out.
It’s not supposed to swoosh, it’s supposed to swoop! she was yellin’ at her reflection.
But I think it’s safe to say no amount of swooshin’ or swoopin’ would have saved it.
Eventually, she got Cathy herself to come over to fix it. Cathy went to hairdressin’ school herself but never finished. And I guess she said this Janelle one was really good, but maybe just a little too fancy and big-feelin’.
We’re in New Waterford, not New York, Minnie said as Cathy snipped away at the long, straight side. By this point the curly blob on the other side of her head looked like it might have actually been a little poodle, or maybe a curly-haired kitten.
The more they talked, the more Cathy snipped, and when they were all finished I walked out in the kitchen. God help me, but it really didn’t look any better. Just a bit less swooshy (or was it swoopy?), I guess.
But I did what I had to do – I swallowed hard, curled my lips together and whistled – whiiiiiit-wooooooo – and said, Oh, that looks much nicer, dear!
And god love my poor wife with the extremely funny haircut – she smiled a little and said, Really? Ya think so?
John McNeil 