Gaaaaaaaaaaaah!
Last night I started going to the gym regularly (again) and while working out on the cross-trainer I realized I’d broken three promises I made to myself in college:
[ul][li]I’d never listen to country music.[/li][li]I’d never dye my hair.[/li][li]I’d never go to the gym.[/ul][/li]
What was I thinking?
In college, as a music education major, Steave and I promised each other that if the other were to start listening to country music, the antithesis of the music we were studying, we’d have a contract hit put out on them. {looks around suspiciously} Well, need I say after I discovered the joys of two-stepping and line dancing, I now emotionally identify the most with country music, and listen to it almost exclusively. I even know the lyrics and sing along! Oh, what Dr. Sprenkle, my old voice teacher, would be saying now…
When I came out as being gay, I saw all these other prissy queens and thought, “Man, who has the time? I’m barely functional in the morning, so I need a haircut that’ll be wash-n-go. And would I ever be so vain as to color my hair? Pffft!” Well, my hairdress in Philly (who is phenomenal) had my perfect haircut down to a science - trim it short, comb it forward, and done. I did submit to putting a dab of gel in it, but I really liked the kind of gel he introduced me to, and it only added like 30 seconds on to my morning routine, so I could live with that. But then he started bugging me about going blond, and I resisted, until one day he said, “I have three words for you - bleached blond buzzcut.” I said, “I don’t think so.” He said, “It’ll get you laid.” I said, “When can we do it?” Now, about twice a year, I cough up a few extra bucks and endure the smells of bleach and toner to look… well, fabulous! I love being blond, and it’s turned into a vicious cycle of happiness - I think it makes me look better, which gives me more self-confidence, which gets me noticed, which means more guys hit on me, which proves to me that I look better. 
And then, finally, I’d always thought I had a good enough build and never thought I’d again be so vain as to need to go to the gym. Then I turned 30, and all those chocolate bars came home to roost. As my friend Gerry once said, "You know, I used to be like you, eat all I want and never gain a pound. Then I turned 30 and said, ‘Ooo, where did those five extra pounds come from?’ Then I turned 40 and said, “Ooo, where did those ten extra pounds come from?’ Of course, then I turned 50 and thought, ‘I don’t really care where those extra fifteen pounds came from…’” So, yeah, I have a gym membership that I actually use.
<sigh> I am so getting old…
Esprix
