Haircuts and Stalkers

Today I got a haircut. I hadn't cut my hair since february so, as you might imagine, it was a long time coming. I don't know why I always drag my feet when it comes to cutting my hair. It's something I was bad about in America too, and there everyone speaks english.

Anyway, I got my hair cut and I have to say, Zena (yes, as in Warrior Princess) didn't do such a bad job. I arrived at my appointment a little before one o'clock and she sat me down in her office chair. That's what they use here: office chairs. She told me we had to wait to use the sink and she handed me a magazine.

"Look through it," she said, "Find something new." I wasn't exactly in the market for "something new," but I started flipping anyway. At one point Zena stopped me and pointed to a picture of a model with ridiculously blunt cut bangs.

"You want?" she asked, "New for you?"
"No," I said, "Definately no."

I was a bit apprehensive about "trying something new" because I find that here, in Ukraine, there are three types of haircuts for women: the uber-trendy, the uber-horrible, and the uber-simple.

The uber-trendy cuts themselves fall into two categories: cute, and bad, bad, bad. Yulia has an uber-trendy "slanted bangs with a borderline mullet" thing going on and on her, it's cute. Her friend Natasha has an uber-trendy "mullet with a rat tail" look that is just bad, bad, bad.

The uber-horrible cuts also fall into two categories. These are: why? and, what the hell were you thinking? This is pretty much where "trendy" haircuts go to die. Looks like the "one side of the head fully shaved" look, and the "super short cut with long bangs over the eyes" look, and the "mid-west male mullet" look all have found there way here. Really, it's the "why?" and the "what the hell were you thinking?" haircuts that make me nervous. I don't want to be mistaken for someone who tried and failed to be trendy. It's bad enough that I'm foreign, but to be foreign with a "what the hell were you thinking?" haircut would be awful.

That is why I told Zena that I wanted a simple cut.
"The same," I said, "But just a little."
"No bangs?" she asked.
"No bangs," I said.

She washed my hair in the sink and started brushing it out. I hadn't washed my hair in a number of days and so lots of hair came out in the brush.
"This is very bad," she said to the stylist next to her, "When she goes back to America, she will have no hair."
"What!?" I said, my eyes bugging.
"Our water is very bad," Zena said, "It is bad for your hair. Look! Look at all this hair in the brush, it's very bad. You will have no hair when you go back to America." I didn't know what to say. What would you say if someone said you're going to be bald within the next year?
"What should I do?" I asked.
"We have a concoction," Zena said. "Take a spoonful of liqueur, a spoonful of honey and the yolk of an egg. Mix it together and then put it on your scalp. Do this once a week and you'll have hair when you go to America."
"Ok," I said.
"Our water is very bad. We drink it and we cook with it, but it is very bad for our hair.

After predicting my imminent baldness, Zena proceeded to cut my hair. I said "a little," but she took off quite a bit. It's a bit longer than my shoulder now, but it had been a good way down my back. She layered it around my face and despite my pleas, cut side bangs. They don't look so bad, but they are annoying in the wind.

So now I have a new haircut. Everyday I become more and more Ukrainian. First it was this gaudy maroon winter jacket I bought from Larissa, then it was a gaudy black and gold bejewelled hoody I got at the store, now it's the hair and soon, new winter shoes. I might be unrecognizable when I come home for Christmas.

***

Today is Wednesday and I didn't have to teach. Tomorrow it's back to school where I'll no doubt see my two stalkers. Yes, I have stalkers. They are 11 years old and they are madly in love with me. Their names are Yana and Vanya. They are in the 6th form class that I teach once a week. I don't quite understand their fascination with me. On teachers day, the two of them showered me with gifts. Vanya gave me a small stuffed teddy-bear, which my cats love to play with, and a card that said: Sheryl + Vanya = Best Friends. Yana gave me a small vile of perfume, a sparkly red heart knicknack, and a small Barbie book with a mirror and a pad of paper inside. One the paper Yana wrote:

Sheryl
The best girlfriend
Yana
I love you

The two of them stand outside the teacher's room during the break between every class. They wait for me to be done with lessons so they can walk home with me. Vanya called me on the phone "just to talk" and was disappointed when I didn't call her back. Neither girl speaks English. They can understand things in the context of the classroom, but outside of the classroom they "nothing know." I only speak to them in English despite their pleas for me to speak to them in Ukrainian. Sometimes I'll translate things, when they really don't know what I'm talking about, but I'd rather make them work. And I figure, if I keep making them think about English, maybe their obsession with me will wane.