It’s hard getting used to the new wife

I’m dealing with a difficult situation this week and have no idea how to handle it. I’m hoping some of our female readers can advise me. The problem involves The Lovely Mrs. Taylor, or more specifically, her hair.

But first, a little history: The Lovely Mrs. T and I met over 15 years ago, when she was just a few years out of school and I was, well, pretty much what I am now, only thinner and less wrinkly. From the moment we met, our personalities clashed like fire and ice, night and day, Mothra and Godzilla.

Somehow, we wound up together anyway. God may not play dice with the universe, but he does enjoy his little joke from time to time.

It took a while, but eventually I figured out I was crazy about Mrs. T, despite her (or, if you ask her, my) obvious character flaws. Being a man, one of the things I found most attractive about her was her hair. Her long, curly, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman hair.

Mrs. Taylor, on the other hand, hated her hair. A day did not go by that she failed to mention this fact. Despite numerous compliments on her “do”—from men, women, even children—Mrs. T was convinced she had lousy hair and no amount of evidence could persuade her to believe otherwise. This is something hardwired into the female anatomy, I think; my daughter suffers from similar negative hair delusions, despite a head full of golden locks that would make Raponzel jealous.

In short, it’s a chick thing.

But back to my problem (other than being the sort of guy who makes politically incorrect statements like “it’s a chick thing,” I mean).

Last week, Mrs. Taylor came home from the beauty salon sporting a new haircut. At least, I think it was Mrs. Taylor. I can’t be sure. The woman who drove her jeep up the driveway looked a little like Mrs. T, but not a lot.

Gone was the luxuriant, wavy mane, gone the chestnut-hued tresses, gone the striking halo of curls. Instead, Mrs. Taylor’s head supported a covering of honey-blonde, straight hair. Ruler-straight. Laser-straight. Really, really straight, really, really blonde, hair.

I don’t know what miracle of cosmetological alchemy was worked upon her head, but I assume it involved animal sacrifices and full moons.

The Lovely Mrs. Taylor was utterly and completely transformed. Seriously, I have never seen a haircut make such a dramatic difference in a person’s appearance.

“Well,” she asked, “what do you think?”

What I was thinking at that moment was duh-uh. I believe that’s what I said.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Duh-uh,” I said again.

“I like it,” she said.

Slowly, my powers of speech returned. “It sure looks different,” I said, all the while thinking I hate it! Oh, heaven help me, I hate it more than “American Idol” and Pauly Shore movies!

“I like it,” Mrs. Taylor repeated.

“Yeah, me too, I guess,” I lied.

Now that some time has passed and I’m getting somewhat used to her new hair, I have to admit it does look nice. Just … different. Waaaaaaay different.

It’s been a week now and I still feel like I’m cheating on my wife.

She’s happy with the look, though, and really, that’s the important thing, all male oinkery aside.

I’m just glad we can’t afford a plastic surgeon. I really love Mrs. T’s stubby, little nose.

She hates it.

To contact Mike Taylor with your questions, comments, or complaints about the “chick thing” comment, e-mail mtaylor325@gmail.com or write via snail mail to: Mike Taylor, c/o Valley Media, Inc., PO Box 9, Jenison, MI 49429. Miss a week? More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com/advancenewspapers.