I thought I was deathly ill yesterday, on my eight motherfucking Tuesday of the semester. And so I looked at the syllabi for all four of the courses that I teach on Tuesday, and I realized that I could, in fact, cancel those classes. Was I sick? I don’t know. I felt like shit, even after a shower. But seriously, whether I was sick or not, I was tired. And so I called in sick. And I slept about 18 hours over a 24 hour period. (Seriously. I’m not exaggerating.) And I think I’m ok. For what it’s worth, I think seasonal allergies may also have played a role. Whatever the case, sleeping like a cat seems to have made me feel semi-normal. It also alerted me to the fact that my Tuesday schedule is so motherfucking crazy. I mean, I know this, objectively, but I really understood that fact personally yesterday, when I went back to bed at 9 pm, before I’d normally have arrived home from my teaching day. Note to people in charge of faculty schedules everywhere: a schedule in which a faculty member teaches from 9 am to 9 pm is fucked-the-fuck up. And students suffer. And also, hey there, conservatives who think that professors aren’t doing an honest day’s work. Fuck you.
Anyway, during my many, many hours of sleep, I was able to rest up enough to reckon with my hair. I haven’t had a hair cut since January 3rd, not by intention but rather because I’ve not had a moment to worry about my hair. So Historiann did a post about hair recently. One that is about many bigger ideas than the ones I will put forth here.
But so here’s the thing. I’ve been thinking about my (short) hair, in part because I am sick of my hair right now. The fact that I’m sick of it is evidenced by the fact that I’m resorting to what I like to think of as “the barrettes of the 1990s.” Should a 37-year-old-woman really be wearing barrettes? And also: isn’t this just the ponytail of the short hair? HIDEOUS!
But the other part of why I’m thinking about my short hair is because of this. Apparently, Michelle Williams, who has amazing short hair, believes that this is unattractive to men. And then I had a conversation with my mother in which she wondered whether men might think I’m a lesbian because of my hair. And then I read this article about sweet Emma Watson.
Let me just interject that I only wear short hair when I feel like I am amazing and sexy and fabulous, to men. And let me also interject that my mother insists that I should only wear short hair because I’m most beautiful with it. These worries, on the part of me and my mother, have everything to do with the fact that I’m in my late-30s and straight and single and I have not produced a grandchild.
But so anyway, I’ve been worried. But during my “Am I sick or tired?” interlude over the past day I watched a VH1 Classic episode of “Behind the Music” on Pat Benatar. And then I saw Olivia Newton John’s “Let’s Get Physical” video. And also? Let’s think also about Charlize Theron’s Dior ad that’s all over the place. In other words, there are clearly sexy ladies who have short hair. So what is my PROBLEM?!?!
On the one hand, my problem is February. I’m sick of everything right now. Also, my problem is that my hair MUST. BE. MORE. BLONDE. Which has nothing to do with length. But also my problem is with the fact that there are a bunch of unimaginative motherfucking fucks whose version of sexy was invented by idiots without an imagination (or/and pornographers). And do I give a shit what they think? Probably not.
But I’m really happy that my hair will be super more blonde next week. Because February is kicking my ass.