A Professor's Hair Diary

A few weeks ago, I came up with the scheme of fixing my hair a different way for every day of the semester.

I teach Monday, Wednesday and Friday at one of my colleges beginning at 8 a.m. I plan to wear my hair down and curly -- natural -- the first day. Then after that I hope to wear a different hairstyle every day.
I'll capture the look on Instagram, which is now connected to my Twitter account, so if you want to follow along, my Instagram account is @runningfan63 and my Twitter account is @paulitakincer.
Grace has set up a Pinterest board with different ideas to try, and my hairstyles should get pretty elaborate quickly because Grace is leaving on Sept. 13. That means I'll only have her here to help me with my hair for a few weeks.
In addition to the challenge of trying to come up with a different hairstyle three times a week for 15 weeks, I wonder how long it will take the students to notice.
One of my teaching friends predicts they will never realize that my hair is different each time I come to class. I say they will.
My students have commented before if I start the semester wearing dresses every day and then switch to pants when it gets colder.
This morning, the day before classes begin, with seven total classes to teach, the whole idea is daunting, but hopefully the hairstyle meme will keep me enthused throughout the semester.

Naïveté

My husband tells me I'm naive about men. 

I don't really see it. I mean, I didn't marry him straight out of high school. I was 27 when we married. I dated men through college and grad school and trips abroad. He'll point out the time I asked the tea room maitre d' in Paris what hours they were open. The matire d' responded, "For you, we are always open." I turned to my friend Michelle and said, "They're always open, that's convenient." 

Okay, maybe I miss some signals from men cause I certainly am not looking for signals or flirtations. 

And, yes, when I had stopped wearing my wedding ring because of a rash, the librarian at the downtown library did memorize my name and card number.

I don't expect men to be attracted to a woman my age. 

Some of the college boys in my class are a little flirty, but I know they're only trying to improve their grades. This semester I had older guys in separate classes. The one man, Lawrence, was outwardly flirtatious, but he acted that way with all the women in class, so I didn't take it too seriously. One day we discussed an essay about "Being a Man" and it touched on the idea of men's foot fetishes. After we finished, the class was shifting around to do some group work when I walked past Lawrence. 

Of course things get caught
 in this mass of hair

"You've got something in your hair," he said and he reached forward to touch my hair at my shoulder. Wearing my hair curly, there's no telling what might get caught in those Brillo pad curls on a humid day.

When he removed his hand, I flicked my hair and said, "Did you get it?"

He said, "Oh, you didn't have anything in your hair, I just have a hair fetish instead of a foot fetish."

"Lawrence!" I said, giving him a look of warning with my hands on my hips. 

I didn't think much about, obviously.

A month or so later, in my other class, we had wrapped up and students were turning in work before they left. A few students remained when Danny, a guy a few  years older than me, stopped at my desk to talk. I was sitting down and he said, "Can I get that out of your hair?"

I didn't even think about Lawrence's earlier subterfuge. I simply looked down at the desk and held still so he could remove whatever was in my hair. Instead, he kissed me on the head. 

"Danny! That was not okay," I said.

And that's when I remember that Lawrence had used the same excuse and realized that I needed to be more on my guard with men.

Maybe there's some sort of guidebook that gives men tips on ruses that get them close to women. So watch out for: "There's something in your hair." I will not fall for that one again.

I was rather brusque with both Lawrence and Danny throughout the rest of the semester, but when I told my husband he reacted rather strongly. 

I promise my radar is up now. I am definitely on the defensive against that subset of men who think flirting with a 50-year-old is exciting. 

Straight Hair Secrets

Well, I had a straight hair for the weekend and I am quite perturbed that women with straight hair have been hiding the truth from me. I thought this was a sisterhood. Here's what I learned. With straight hair, I can wake up in the morning and my hair looks exactly the same as it did the day before. No strange waves sticking up in the back or clumps of hair leaning to one side or the other. With straight hair, I can ride in the convertible, see the shadow of my hair blowing in straight lines all around my head like I'm incredibly frightened, and when the car stops, my hair looks exactly the same as it did before I climbed in.
I suppose modern technology should be given credit for my weekend of straight hair. It started with a trip to the "salon," which for me is a long narrow shop with six chairs and way too many pictures of Keith Richards. As Grace the hairdresser was beginning to dry my hair, she said, "The usual?" The usual for me is letting it dry naturally. I do as little to my hair as possible. After a shower I add hair gel (confixor by Aveda) and don't think about it again unless I pass a mirror.
"Are there any alternatives?" I asked Grace. "Sure, we could straighten it."
Those words are familiar. I went through years trying to tame my curly hair into a smooth pageboy or even a Dorothy Hamil wedge. After college, I gave up and accepted my curls. The humidity in Washington, D.C. and Florida made straightening an impossibility anyway.
So imagine my surprise when Grace the hairdresser pulled out a ceramic hair straightener and my hair not only went straight, but felt baby fine. This is not my beautiful hair, I wanted to exclaim feeling like David Bowie. But it was. My children and most everyone I know felt the same. People I knew walked right past without recognizing me. Apparently, I look totally different with straight hair. Some people said I looked younger. I thought the lines around my eyes were more apparent because I didn't have all of that hair distracting from them.
And when I got up Saturday morning, my looked exactly the same. So I skipped my morning shower and ran screaming when my daughter called me into the humid bathroom. My husband, who flew in late Friday night, commented that he could run his fingers through my hair without getting stuck in tangles. On Sunday morning, my hair still looked great. Not a sign of curl and none of the greasiness that people with normal straight hair get. I avoided getting it wet again. Eventually, I had to shower and my hair has popped back into curls, a little shorter than I would have liked, but I know that if I want it longer and sophisticated, all I have to do is buy one of those ceramic straightener thingees and spend about an hour every morning fixing my hair...