Hairdo

At 4:30 a.m. I certainly don't look my best, especially if I've actually slept only to wake up with pillow cover wrinkle dinkles carved into my face. These are in addition to the ones I have earned over the past almost 50 years, so I'm an idiot to think anyone's going to notice.

But I try to look at least partly alive, thinking Hurly Burly might just pull me over again, this time for driving dead. I match my shorts to my top to my bra to my socks to my hairband. I wash my face, brush my teeth, comb my hair, put on lip gloss and deoderant, smile at myself in the mirror, then make a face, and bolt out the door. I'm in a big hurry to get to the Y.

Why do I bother? After 45 minutes on the treadmill I resemble a wet squirrel with its shorts stuck upside its butt. And New Guy is only interested in the younger gals who pussy foot around with their hairdos, perfume, jewelry, makeup, rose tattoos, piercings, and 10 perfect nails. But I console myself, straighten my shorts, lick my tail and nibble on my acorn, knowing they may be cute as the dickens, but I'm still cut. SteveArino told me one day that I looked great. I chomped down on my gum a few times and said in my best NY accent "It's the gum what makes me attractive". NOT.

So I'm checking out New Guy while he's busy zooming the pretty girl that works behind the counter. Then there were all these new guys in the pool this week to check out, many are very cut, and I'm sure I looked my best with my flip flops and cap and suit that all match, and big rings around my eyes from the goggles. One of our area pools is closed this week so we have Interlopers crowding the lanes. But it's okay. Nice to have something hot to look at for a change. Good thing we've got Sharin'. She dresses the place up nice.

Then it's a shower, get weighed, get dressed, dry and style the hair (hairdo), makeup, more makeup, get the cat hair off my pants, underwear, socks, shoes, jewelry, pants, belt, top, get more cat hair off my top, and TA-DA, I'm ready to bolt. I often wish everything matched better but there's NO TIME, I am wearing what I'm wearing even if it looks awful because it's what I packed last night in the dark without trying it on first I have to get to work. Stitch sometimes calls me glamour girl. At least I remembered the bra.

Every year it seems to take me longer and longer to look my best. But I try. In a couple of weeks I am going to a cosmetic party that the Cheater is hosting to buy products that will make our skin as beautiful and youthful as Puppy Sweet Cheeks. I'll bring a checkbook.

Bubbles

I've overheard Poison Ivy for the past 3 days now tell her story to anyone who would listen (or was within 2 feet of her even if they were trying to ignore her) about how she got poison ivy walking out to her mailbox. Yesterday she showed me the bubbles from her poison ivy and told me her story as well. UGH. These are BAD bubbles. Being the sympathetic type, I told her she was infectious and shouldn't even be at the Y. Today I changed lockers - different row. She's wacko.

Changing lockers was weird and wonderful. Three times I went to my old locker and someone else's stuff was in there and I had to take a moment to remember where I'd put my stuff, what day it was, where I was, and wonder do I have to go to work now. Change is good because I got to be nice to a new member in Row Two, I did my good deed! - so now I'm off the hook for a week, back to being S.L.B. Hah! Time to do a blog!!!

Most bubbles are GOOD BUBBLES. I love throwing balloons in the pool when someone has a birthday. And I like bouncing up and down on the stability balls. I like that when I swim I breathe bubbles. And I like little bubbles in my booze. One of my favorites is prosecco, and Strawberry had lots to share at Sharin's engagement party on Wednesday night. What a great time! Everyone was in high spirits, especially me after several glasss of prosecco. Sharin' and her fiance were glowing. They could have floated away in a bubble of love like the one the Good Witch of the North travelled around inside of in The Wizard of Oz. This has been a wonderful change in her life and I hope they get old and fat and happy together. NOTE: If anyone busts Sharin's bubble me and the Cheater are going to take them down.

Bad bubbles are too many little bubbles in too many glasses of prosecco. These are definitely BAD BUBBLES.

We had three lifeguards on Wednesday - the experience was positively effervescent. For 10 years they have only ever had two sleepy lifeguards on duty between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. It's a long shift and the place is busier than ever - definitely time for a change. The swimmers were happy because we got to spread out, relax, and get into the zone without being forced to move because a lifeguard needs to pee and thus close down lanes. The lifeguards were friendlier because they could go pee (or sleep in the office, or the locker room, or anywhere they can't be found for that matter). I filled out a Suggestion suggesting that they should ALWAYS have three lifeguards on, and put it in the Box, knowing full well that no one will ever read it.

I had a rotten start to my week and the good vibes from the party made me feel better than I have in a long time - thank you, everyone, for getting my head out of that bubble. Kindness is contagious. Poison ivy is also contagious. Poison Ivy wasn't there today. I wonder if she will wait until we have snow to return to the Y, when it might also be safe to finally pick up her mail. That'll be about when they read my Suggestion.

Signs We Don't See

Everything is okay for now. No matter what - strained muscles, marriages, or budgets - no worries! Take it from me: things won't get worse and could, in fact, get much, much better!!! I know this for certain because the "NO TURNAROUND" sign at the corner where we turn into the gym is now down.

Since the NO TURNAROUND sign is down, knowing there's hope, I'm sure I will start looking younger tomorrow when this new $54 bottle of anti-aging lotion is sure to kick in. My neck will also look youthful again. I now know that a sure sign of aging is the crepey neck, something I was blissfully unaware of until I read the last book group selection "I Feel Bad About My Neck". But I won't go as far as Botox Bitch.

I think Botox Bitch is new around here, and she has also apparently taken advantage of the sign being down. Her face doesn't move, and neither does she if you want to get in the lane with her. She also talks on the phone in the locker room, which, if you see the sign, is NOT ALLOWED. So I am shunning her and hope she goes away soon.

I think we need another sign by the hot tub: PLEASE DO NOT DISCUSS POLITICS, SPORTS, or PERSONAL INJURIES. "I don't give a shit" and "you talk too much" are not the perfect comeback when someone starts on any of these topics, but early in the morning I may have forgotten to turn on my brain, so please forgive me if I stare at you instead of responding. Particularly if you launch into What Hurts. Plus, the sign is down (haven't you noticed?) - so there's nothing to be concerned about. At least for now.

So it's okay that my Bicep Femoris has been aching for weeks, that things at home could be better, that Chicago might win the Stanley Cup, and that the NYS budget still hasn't passed. Things can only improve!!! Until the NO TURNAROUND sign goes back up we'll all be fine. Trust me. The orange cones are just a warning.