Attn: Woman with Huge Newsanchor Hair
at the Gym.
I just wanted to go over a few things with you while I have your attention.
First of all, please don't ever give me that look again. Contrary to what you might believe, you are not hot shit. You're not even hot tuna. You are a cranky 45 year-old crusty bitch. It's not my fault your vagina dried up and fell off.
Secondly, it's a gym. People go there to work out (ie. exercise). No matter how you slice it, one set of three reps on each machine does not constitute exercise. I can see just by looking at you that you're not the type of gal who likes to sweat, but if you're going to go to the gym and sit on the machine that I'm waiting to use, at least make an attempt to look like you're getting something out ot it. To be honest, I'm not sure why you even joined a gym. Your workouts last about 15 minutes in their entirety, and when you get on a machine, I suspect you do so because you simply need a place to sit.
And lastly, the hair. "Who's hair?" you ask, looking around in every direction. Your hair. Now, I know that popular Cougar-Bar trivia games remind us that hair is, in fact, dead. I concede this point. But I feel that you might have taken this fact and decided that there's no point in nourishing something that's dead. I completely agree (and so do many of my late plants).
But-- and here's the rub-- something dead attached to something living is legally able to claim status as a semi-living entity. I would suggest conditioner, but frankly, it's too late for that. May I suggest olive oil, followed by a leave-in treatment of clarified butter (or ghee, as my Indian friend says). That should be the first step in restoring movement to your hair. I don't mean texture and body, but actual, visible movement.
Please take these suggestions to heart.
And if you're ever rude to me again, I will set a cougar trap for you next to the Ab Glider and tell our fellow gym-goers you're the one who leaves puddles of sweat on the machines.