i endeavor to prevent you from making my mistakes

I am fairly low-maintenance in the hair care category. I wash it every other day, brush and go. Sometimes it doesn't even get brushed on the non-washing mornings, but it is so straight that as I've mentioned before, you can't really tell. I occasionally try to stretch the hair washing out to three days, but on those rare occasions when I wake up late or have an emergency, I tie it back and hope that folks confuse the greasy look for shine. Lots and lots of shine.

One morning in my third year of law school, I had one of those mornings when I somehow slept through the alarm and was caught with only 15 minutes until the start of class. I got dressed in record time, ran into the bathroom to pull my hair into the pony tail and upon looking in the mirror realized, nooooo, ohhh noooo, not even a pony tail will work today.

And then, I remember a trick I'd read about so many times in magazines. I'd just sprinkle some talcum powder into my hair, the powder would absorb the grease, thus leaving my hair looking clean although a bit dull, and I'd be on my merry way.

I sprang into action, pulled baby powder out of the linen closet, hung my head upside down over the tub, and began liberally shaking the powder over my scalp. Once I'd shaken enough out, I set down the bottle and ran my hands and a brush through the hair to shake out the excess. Surprisingly, though, not much excess seemed to be coming out.

I turned my hair right side up and looked in the mirror. White hair. I had a full head of white hair, with clumps of powder that had soaked up the natural oiliness and turned into crusted strands. I frantically shook it out again, running the brush through, rubbing it with a towel, and eyeing the clock nervously. This professor did not permit tardiness and would be more than happy to call me out if I snuck in past the start of class.

The crusted and clumpy white hairs remained. I had two choices, I could abandon my attempts to get to class and wash out the disaster on my head, or I could find a cover up. I pulled one of Josh's hats off from behind the door, tucked the mess under the hat and hoped that no one noticed that the pony tail poking out the back looked suspiciously gray in color. I also hoped that no professor demanded for me to take off the (not permitted) hat in class, or I would really look foolish.

Apparently when the magazines tell you to put talcum powder in your hair, they mean for you to rub a tiny amount between your fingers and run your fingers through your hair. Further explanation would have been nice, but at least now YOU know. I aim to please.