So I’m running, right? Hot, windless day today. Up and down hills in Hyde Park. In fact, the only saving grace from this miserable fitness experience was “I Wanna Sex You Up” playing on my iPod. No, it wasn’t on shuffle. I deliberately cued it up.
Anyway, it was getting to the point where my endurance had just crested over that ‘I want to kill myself’ portion of the workout. I was running down Duval, head held high. Sweating like a man, but feeling triumphant. I saw people staring at me from their cars, probably thinking: “oh, what a healthy person.” Or (hopefully?) “wow, she’s so fit!” Most likely: “well, she’s a little slow bless her heart, but at least she is trying.”
A few of the people stared slightly longer than what is appropriate for a passing glance. “Perverts,” I thought.
One woman’s mouth was slightly agape.
“Huh. What’s her problem.”
Finally, a man in a Hyundai slowed down to a stop, craned his head around and asked me, “are you OK?”
I looked down, saw crimson lines going down my neck and chest.
“ARE YOU OK?”
I waved him off and walked over to a parked car. This is what I saw:
Moral of the story: Never go running directly after dying hair.
