Grrr: Where's My Axe?

The end of winter is the ugliest time of year. Dry skin and hair. Pale, pasty skin. Big, lumpy clothes and clompy shoes. I don't usually wear makeup but right now I feel like I should apply it with a trowel to my entire body.

And that's not to mention those extra pounds the human body puts on every winter, a left-over genetic predisposition from the days when humans were cave bears who ate lots of berries and bunnies and shit and then went to sleep for four months. Everybody knows that eating a big meal right before bedtime is a bad idea. Just ask Oprah.

Anyway, you know things are bad when you complain about how horrible you look and people don't even bother to contradict you. On Tuesday, I said I needed a haircut and my mom told me that I do look a little like a crazy backwoodsman. She didn't even say crazy backwoodswoman or crazy backwoodsperson, for crying out loud. She's right, though. My hair has gotten a little out of control: it's as long as it's ever been and getting more and more gray every day.

So today I decided to do something about it. I washed that gray right out of my hair. I tweezed my shaggy eyebrows. I exfoliated and shaved and moisturized all the areas that needed to be exfoliated and shaved and moisturized. And tomorrow I make a solemn vow that I will go and get a haircut. Honest.

But the best thing I did today was to call the cable company and cancel all my premium channels, from TLC to HBO. I'm putting the money and time I'll save each month into the gym. I love TV. But I'm willing to give it up to get a jump start on spring.

Which, paws down, is the prettiest season of all.
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