I took it easy in the gym this morning, but I have a valid excuse. I wasn’t just being lazy; I’m tapering down for this Saturday’s race. Races, actually: I will be racing in a lightweight women’s quad (with the same people I rowed with yesterday), which should be great fun, coxing something-or-other, which will be OK, and racing again in a mixed eight (mixed = 4 men and 4 women) which may not be fun. The first race will be fun because we’re well matched, we’ve gotten to practice together (well, once but we’re the only women’s quad, so it’s not like anyone will beat us), and we’re rowing at 7:45 AM. The mixed eight, in contrast, hasn’t rowed together at all, which is not a major problem since everyone’s just doing this one for kicks, not taking it seriously. The problem will be that we’re scheduled to race at about 10:00 AM, by which time it may be 95 degrees. I may melt.
I tried suggesting to T2 Hatfield, who put the crews together for this race, that if anyone else wanted it, they were welcome to my spot in the eight, but I guess he doesn’t have people begging for seats in a boat. Oh well. This is all part of the Grand Canyon State Games, by the way, the first year they’ve included rowing.
We went to dinner with him and Egret yesterday, at which point he informed me that I’ll be coxing a boat or two next weekend, when we go to the Regatta del Sol at Marina del Rey. I’m slated to cox his and T’s boat, whch should be fun.
Dinner with them also gave me the chance to show off my new haircut, in all its blow-dried glory. (My hair gets blow-dried when I have it cut and at no other time.) Cool Salon Guy and I discussed the issue of my hair boredom at length; as a conscientious hairdresser (stylist?) he was trying hard to be helpful without being coercive, but stated that the two best styles he’s seen on me over the years are long and all one length, or very short. So the options for yesterday were to cut it back to the length of the shortest layers, or to go short.
We did the former, on the theory that if I didn’t like it, we could always cut more, whereas growing it out is a pain in the ass. So now it’s one length, between my chin and shoulders, with a few short pieces because hairdressers think those add excitement or fun or something, and anyway I kind of like having hair in my eyes. I’m not sure why; maybe because I got yelled at so much for that as a kid that it makes me feel rebellious somehow. If I had straight hair, I’d get it cut like Edward Furlong in Terminator 2. Anyway, now that it’s been washed and not blowdried, it’s essentially a bob cut and I haven’t decided yet whether to grow it out more or get it chopped off after all. At least it’s long enough to pull back for sports.
The reason for all this angst is that I’ve always had a sneaking belief that if I got the One Perfect Haircut, I would suddenly magically be stunningly beautiful. This belief has never been shaken by the observable reality that people who are stunningly beautiful always look that way with any hairstyle (contrast Demi Moore as a stripper and as a Marine). It’s my only remaining Cinderella fantasy, and I refuse to give it up.
I should probably write something about the latest changes at work, but I may need to wait a day or two for that.
Posted by dichroic at June 14, 2001 08:31 AM