So, Monday was my first day back to work after a two-week hiatus, and Tuesday was my first day of working out after a two-and-a-half-week hiatus. Now, there are a lot of reasons that I find it difficult to drag myself over to the Rose Bowl to swim. These include (but are not limited to):

* Being tired
* Lady troubles
* Feeling bloated from tacos and/or cupcakes
* It’s cold
* It’s Tuesday
* Mothra attack

But Tuesday marked the dawn of an entirely new excuse. As I was preparing to leave, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and my hair looked tremendous! I had it back in a bun, but the ends were poking out as if lovingly arranged by six or seven European stylists. Little tendrils were falling around my neck, and my bangs had somehow miraculously retained an impressive level of volume after 12 hours in the office. I admired my hair from all possible angles, an exercise which lasted a good two or three minutes.

Let’s see, I thought. Who will I be gracing with my presence tonight? Who will be fortunate enough to gaze upon my fantastic updo?

No one, that’s who. In a half hour, I was going to be jamming my entire head, hairs and all, into an off-white silicone swim cap. Let me tell you- this is nowhere near an acceptable look for a person. Since I spend all day at a desk, in a room without any windows, my skin is untouched by the sun. I’m not kidding. I probably have rickets. Under the fluorescent lights of the Rose Bowl Aquatic Center locker room, the swim cap is almost the same color as my skin, which, when I don my bathing suit, makes me look like an old Greco-Roman Wrestler.

Hey- my New Year’s Resolution was to look good. I’m sure you can see my dilemma.

Eventually, my better judgment returned, and I ended up in the pool, but not before taking a picture of my hair. Which I will not post here, because it did not turn out well.

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