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The Woes of New Hair

First off, thanks to all of the people who signed my guestbook and left lovely comments regarding the donation of my hair. You all were too kind, and to those of you who made the assumption that I�m a good person, well, don�t jump to conclusions! I�m still quite angry and hateful, just with less hair now. Anyhow, I am glad that a lot of you wrote in, and I hope that a couple other people get the hair donation bug. It�s really not that hard, and it is a good way to make people say they like your new haircut even if they are secretly thinking it looks like crap.

The number one question about cutting my hair has been to inquire whether or not it was weird showering with less hair. I hate to disappoint everyone, but no, it was not. It was freaky trying to wrap a towel around my head when I had no hair to wind up in it. Since I had cut my hair short before, I only put a dime sized dab of shampoo in the palm of my hand versus the Susan B. Anthony dollar sized dab I�d put in the previous morning. The biggest problem I�ve had with short hair has been my lack of �product� and also trying to say the word �product� with a straight face. Oh how I loathe the word �product� as it relates to hair greases, waxes, gels, foams, sprays, etc. I appreciate its brevity in describing the full line of hair altering er � products, but for some reason, it is like saying �Coke� when referring to any type of soda to me.

On a whim, I had purchased a very expensive jar of lavender smelling �hair cr�me� about a year or so ago, which has had some positive impact on the styling of my hair, however it lacks the full-on stickiness factor required to give me any sort of �angry teen� looking ends. I also have a trial sized aerosol bottle of uber-hairspray called something ingenious like �Freeze!� or �Halt!� Unfortunately, my hair is thin and so using hairspray on it somehow turns it into some kind of weird hairnet. My flatiron is 2 inches wide which has the lovely effect of leaving creases in my hair next to my skull, and I threw away my curling iron after it broke awhile back and never thought to replace it. Luckily, I got a really good cut, so none of this is impacting me too negatively, but I�m sure in a week, I�ll be at the local beauty shop stocking up on overpriced product and hair utensils.

My absolute worst hair dilemma is my hair brush situation. The brush I�d been using on my hair was a 3 inch wide behemoth. In a moment of weakness, I brushed the damn cat with my smaller round brush, and as much as I love him, I have no desire to share a hair brush with Eli. I have a travel brush that is smaller than the behemoth brush, but I know exactly where this is leading. When I leave on my next business trip, I will find myself in some hotel with no gift shop and no hairbrush. I really could have done a better job thinking this whole hair thing through.

Enough about my hair� for a minute at least. Last night, I went to the gym for the first time in I don�t even want to say how long. I managed to suffer through a full 20 minutes on the elliptical machine, walk five laps (because if I had stopped moving after the elliptical machine I might have passed out) and then did a small circuit of upper body weight training. That oughtta last me for the next three months, right? Anyhow, I always forget how much fun it is to go to my gym � not because of the feeling of accomplishment or the fact that I may live another day, but because of the FREAKS that work out there.

My favorite gym freak is the heavy breather lady who sounds like she�s practicing Lamaze while she walks laps on the track. Also entertaining are the single men in their late 30�s early 40�s who insist on working out on the elliptical machines next to the women�s only weight area. A new addition to the freak group was the husky guy who ran like Phoebe in that episode of Friends. I�m not kidding, his arms were bent at the elbows so that his hands were up at his shoulders, and he let his wrists relax so as he ran his hands flopped in a circle like a drag queen riding in the back of a convertible in a gay pride parade. I�m not making that simile up, by the way � the image of the drag queen is something I took with me from college. She was gorgeous, and to this day, I am jealous of how tone her legs were. I digress. Husky lapped me about three times as I struggled to walk in a straight line, and I suppressed school-girl giggles each time. I seriously felt bow-legged after working out on that damn machine.

A few of you asked to see pictures of the back of my head. I had asked Ryan to take one, but he was in a rush to use the powder room. I�ll try and get a shot of my noggin tonight so that I can post it tomorrow.

11:06 a.m. - January 12, 2005

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