Hiding at the Gym

I wonder if the folks at the gym by my office will notice that more often than not, I actually don’t work out when I come in.

At least 2-3 times a month, I check in and go straight to the shower.  Then I sit at that mirror and blow my hair out. And then I run home to relieve my mom or nanny.

Why? Because my kids can’t find me there.

My 4 year old can’t burst into the bathroom and demand that “if you are straightening your hair, you have to do mine!”

My 2 year old can’t waltz into the shower, in his clothes, and say “Me take a shower, too!”

The fact is, I can’t figure out when to blow-dry my mangled postpartum hair at home without my kids invading or my husband asking why I can’t do it when they are asleep.

[Um, because that’s when I make the food they eat.  Or because I’m shitfucktired by then and I promised myself I would blow out my hair last night when they were sleeping.  And the night before.  And the night before that.  And that’s how I ended up with busted, greasy, day-four hair at work today.  Again.]

The way I see it, the pricey monthly membership is essentially the same as what it would cost to have my hair blown out those 2-3 times.

So if I work out at all (hahaha . . . “work out”), it’s a bonus.

Thanks, Equinox.  Love you.

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