For the love of my red circular face

Let me begin here by being honest with all of you. I moved. I know. Huge deal. I can hear you now thinking: Mal, your blog is called "Short hair, Long commute." I bet you don't even have short hair anymore! Well guess what. It's hard commuting 20 hours a week. It is. Don't ever try it. And I do have short hair still, and now it's black, like my heart. Just kidding. (about the black heart, my hair really is black, ok not black, dark brown – you got me.).  Anyways, I want to continue my blog, but please understand this, although there will still be some epic awkward encounters from commuting- obviously there is endless material there, but I will also be tapping into the world outside of the train. I know, this is a big step, I'm not sure I can handle it either, but let’s try......

I need to start exercising again. Not only will I look great, I will be able to properly ride the commuter rail or any T line or any bus for that matter. If you even have an ounce of fat on your body you are very aware the moment the train starts bobbling down the tracks. I sit in the window seat most mornings, because I'm awesome. No it's because Westboro is like the third stop. Anyways, I am sitting there and can't help but feel a bit self-conscious as my circular face starts to swoosh up and down like a cartoon character who is falling off a cliff and one part of their body stays up and then zooms down to meet the other half. You know what I'm talking about. So my face is falling off a cliff while my body has no choice but to slink down in the seat and be rattled around like a rag doll, this is very attractive. As all of this is going on I think of ways to fix this right away, for crying out loud I could meet my husband on this train, I need to look fit. Quickly I suck in my circular face; I look at the smudged window next to me to see a fish. That doesn't work. I give up and allow evil gravity to take hold of me. That evening I was waiting to go home and I got to the waiting area a bit early, I turned the corner to sit on a bench and you won't believe what I saw. I saw a lady who must sometimes also feel like a cartoon falling off a cliff. She is doing arm curls with her big purple purse. I want to go over and join her, but i decide to see what other exercise moves she has up her orange coat sleeve. Next she decided to do a few jumping jacks, then - I give her big props for this, she moves over to a bench and she starts doing bench squats. I could not believe this woman. I wanted so badly to tell her how well she was doing, give her a high five, clap for her…. but I have learned my lesson from the Flower Lady - never speak to anyone, unless you can play hard to get. I was way too proud of this lady - I knew I would yell excitedly and ruin her routine. So I will say it here. Dear Orange Coated Purple Purse Lady - you did a great work out the other day, very creative and good use of your resources. Excellent job. So now I understand how all these people on the go are so fit, purse curls, bench squats, good old fashion jump in jacks. Gotcha.

I got sick again last week and had to drive a few days. I am so much more fun in my car I realized. There is something about your car that just makes you feel like you are a celebrity. I don't know what it is but when I'm in my car alone, watch out because A) I am the best singer to ever cruise the Mass Pike and B) I can make up so many sweet dance moves while sitting down. C) I almost always also drive with my windows down because my hair must blow around in it like a model would do, because I am also prettier in my car. D) I also become a badass. Someone cuts me off and I have to catch up to them and pass them so they know I am faster than them and cooler. Doesn't my Chevy Cavalier with a huge dent on the side with Vermont and Papoose Pond Campground bumper stickers just scream high class? Back off! I'm dancing, I'm singing, I'm a badass. Boo yaaa!

I get uncomfortable at movies when people clap. My face turns red and I need to leave immediately. Come on people, it doesn't make any sense. The person who created that movie is not there. Unless someone stood up and started break dancing or there is someone who just saved an infant from choking on popcorn, then really, there is no need to be clapping. I really don't get it. There are so many occasions where clapping is okay - sporting events, a baby’s first step, a candy dish - but this is not one of them. If you are reading this and you are a movie clapper, please, stop it, for the love of my red circular face, stop. Because what happens is that i forget the whole movie once there is clapping. I get anxious and my mind is focused on getting out of there. I appreciate your enthusiasm, just please, re focus it. I know exactly where you can all go. To the commuter rail waiting area at Back Bay, clap for the Orange Coated Purple Purse Lady and for the people commuting 20+ hours a week to make ends meet, go on a road trip in your car and clap for yourself because lets face it, you are AWESOME in your car, clearly! Just bring it elsewhere. Scram! Get out of the movie theater. THANK YOU!