I’ve had a lot of haircuts in my life, including one of the best when I was invited to boot camp in San Diego.

I figured I was pretty much an authority on hair chopping. What a foolish notion.

Not only do I know nothing about haircuts or the origin of the universe, I have discovered I know less every day about the secret society of women.

God help me, because no one else can.

Recently I was shocked when I discovered woman have a clandestine meeting place. It is called the salon.

Men are not allowed in salons. There are no signs barring boys at the door, but there must be a special haircut handshake meant to keep the boneheads like me out.

I found out about this alternate universe last week when my daughter, Katy, got her haircut, which I happily paid for, and paid for, and continue to pay for.

If you think global warming is a big deal, talk to any woman about getting their haircut. Ice caps melting and the ocean sucking up California is small change compared to one strand of hair hanging in the wrong place.

When Katy was about to get her haircut I foolishly said to her, “What’s the big deal. You go to the barber and get a haircut.”

Apparently I have the brain capacity of a wharf rat.

“I go to a stylist,” she corrected me.

I love being corrected by the boss of the world.

I tried to point out that my fancy-schmancy stylist cost me about 10 bucks and takes 10 minutes. Sometimes I do it myself and I don’t even need a mirror. I reminded her of my dad’s haircut philosophy – the difference between a good and bad haircut is two hours and a bar of soap. Water is an optional accessory.

Katy tried to claim I have no hair.

Ha, ha… I informed her in a superior tone my hair was simply well hidden because I have children. It happens to many men with children. It is called the disappearing hair syndrome.

It was then the most frightening secrets of the alternate universe came to light. In those salons, women use wax, and men get hold of yourselves, it is not for cars.

I heard my daughter talking about eyebrow waxing. I thought waxing was for the hood of my car, but no. Somehow there is a girl procedure with wax and eyebrows. I was afraid to ask about the details, but this cannot be right… Simoniz for eyebrows.

Help us God.

You know what else? A whole pile of women dye their hair, more than anyone can imagine. It is some kind of plot or an epidemic.

I tested this secret stuff in my office. I am surrounded by women, and they all knew about these things. When I brought up some of the hidden code words I had been hearing they gave me that look and moved away. Like I was breaking a religious rite and I would hit by lightening any second.

Here is more. I was watching television the other night with Katy and saw a woman with shiny legs.

My daughter casually informed me the woman’s shiny legs were sprayed on “fake and bake.”

That pushed me over the edge and I began hearing the voice of God in my head.

“Michael! Get over here. What is this? I take a little nap and everything goes nuts. Why don’t I know about these things. What’s going on? I’m God. I get to know these things don’t I?”

After hearing the voice of God in my head, a light came on and I discovered the answer to the question.

Don’t ask, don’t ever ask, because we don’t really want to know. Not even God wants to know.

Just enjoy the scenery. We are not here for very long.