Help people twig to fact wigs just aren’t for touching

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 15/06/2023 (892 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

DEAR MISS LONELYHEARTS: For decades now, I’ve worn wigs like my idol Tina Turner. It started when I was in my 30s and I got very sick and lost my hair. It came back sparsely, so I bought my first wig — and people liked it!

When I was feeling better I got a second job to buy some really expensive wigs. Now, people I know wait to see what kind of wig I’m going to wear to different events.

However, some people still insist on asking rude personal questions, from “What do you wear on your head when you’re alone?” to creepy ones like “Which wig does your husband like best in bed?” I just wave them off, but it hurts. My husband doesn’t have a “hair issue” — he almost lost me when I was so sick. Now he appreciates every bit of me — real or synthetic.

My personal problem? Sometimes I just lose it on total strangers who are deliberately rude, touching my beautiful “hair” like they want to find out if it’s real or fake? Please help me fend them off!

— Had More Than Enough! West Kildonan

Dear More Than Enough: Say to these touchy-feely people in a strong, assertive voice, “I can feel you touching my hair!” to gain the upper hand. Then look at them and wait for a response, so they know you’re in charge. They will probably apologize.

If you accept that, and they seem all right, you might add: “So what do you think of my wig?” You’ll get a few embarrassed compliments for sure. Who’d dare to criticize, after being caught trying to touch your locks?

Luckily, attitudes to wigs and hair-pieces have changed. In fact, modern wigs often look healthier and better-styled than “normal” hair, which is why so many TV and movie stars wouldn’t be caught dead without the skilful addition of a little extra “hair” before a TV interview.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts: I came home from living in another province telling everybody I was home for a two-month visit. The truth is I quit my job before I left, turned in the key at my boarding house and I’m never going back.

Unfortunately, the truth is not my friend anymore. Lies are my friends now. Lies are what make people like me. I composed a pack of lies about my year away where I hated it. Now I don’t know what to do with myself.

I want to stay in Manitoba and live with my family again, but part of the problem with telling lies is that you’re stuck with keeping them going. What can I do to start making a truthful life with my mother? I care most about her. The problem is, she smiles when I tell her all the wonderful things I did when I was away. But, I really didn’t do them, at least to the levels I say I did.

— Sad Daughter, St. Boniface

Dear Sad: Here’s the interesting things about mothers: They love their kids’ souls and the real people they are inside much more than their accomplishments. And here’s another thing you need to know: They often know when their kids are making up stories or telling outright lies. Maybe you can devote this summer to unravelling some of the stories you have told your mom. Just start with her — no one else. You may find out she knew you were just spinning tales, trying to sound like the successful kid who left home. Maybe she’ll just be glad you came back home to stay and you can relax and be yourself again. Then settle in here where you belong, and go after realistic accomplishments you can attain and truly enjoy.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts: I got drunk and loud at a family wedding, and basically got asked to leave by the bride’s fat-ass loser brother. Then I got into an argument with one of my own lunkhead cousins outside the hall on the steps. He landed at the bottom, but he didn’t hit his head. Somebody started screaming and my dad suddenly appeared at the top of the steps, grabbed me and said, “We’re going for a little ride.” Talk about overreacting! His face had turned beet-red. The old man informed me this was the “end of the line” and said I’m turning myself into a drunk and an embarrassment to the family.

I have two weeks to find a place to live and a full-time job — because I’m on my own now. What? I just got drunk at a stupid family wedding, and now this happens? What’s the big deal? When will they relax and get over it?

— Son of Overreactors, North End

Dear Son of Overreactors: As long as you’re not sorry, why would they get over it? Embarrassing your parents in private is bad enough, but when their drunk and disorderly son becomes the topic of a wedding gathering — that’s quite another. Getting smashed at a wedding where everyone is proudly showing off their 20-something children takes the cake! Your best way out of this hole is to get a couple jobs, move out, make money and save for college or trade school. You certainly don’t need to live with party guys, as you’ve already learned those skills. What you need to do now is to grow up and build yourself into a guy everybody can be proud of, including yourself.

Please send your questions and comments to lovecoach@hotmail.com or Miss Lonelyhearts c/o the Winnipeg Free Press, 1355 Mountain Ave., Winnipeg, MB, R2X 3B6.

Maureen Scurfield
Advice columnist

Maureen Scurfield writes the Miss Lonelyhearts advice column.

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