I'm A Good Driver

It happened. It finally happened. I knew it would happen and today, April 22, 2009, it happened.

(By the way, Happy Earth Day.)

I woke up, took a shower, talked to Michael, and chatted with my guest (my mom) before I left the house. As I was driving to work I realized I didn't straighten my ponytail (Does this make sense? If I wear my hair in a ponytail, I use the straightener on the entire ponytail and am good to go). I self-consciously reached back to grab my wavy hair and instead wrapped my hand around a very soft, very elastic scrunchie.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Lately I have been using a scrunchie after I've dried my hair. (For those of you who just started reading my blog, the only reason I even HAVE the biggest fashion faux pas of the 90s is because I was Nastia Liukin for Halloween last year. Moving on.)

So of course I panic. I immediately grab my purse and start reaching for a hairband. I come up empty. Check the console, under the seats (keep in mind, I'm doing this while driving 70 on a highway), and finally succumb to the fact that I, Meredith Haynes, will have to walk into work wearing a neon blue scrunchie. I call my mom to ask her to bring a hairband when she meets me for lunch and exclaim, "HOW could you let me leave the house wearing this?" She thought I did it on purpose. Oh man.

The way I saw it, I had four options.

1. Make an immediate u-turn and head back home for the correct hair accessory. Fantastic idea, but I was already running late.

2. Sit at my desk and refuse to move until my mom arrived four hours later. No good, I can't stay in my seat for long periods of time--my bladder doesn't take up my entire body and I didn't want to get the dreaded flat butt syndrome.

3. Move around the building, but walk backwards after talking to anyone so they can't see the blue party going on behind me. Not an option. Walking backwards has never been a strength of mine, although I do occasionally use this trick when exiting a boring conversation. It's a total optical illusion and works like a charm. One second you're there, next second you're in the kitchen where you belong, scarfing down cheese cubes and exclaiming, "Why yes, thank you so much" to another glass of the good stuff.

4. Use a real rubber band, the kind that could ruin Jennifer Aniston's hair with one fatal snap.

In the end I chose option 4. It beat peeing my pants, obtaining a flat butt, tripping over something behind me, or being late. So the next time you see my hair and notice more split ends than usual, you'll understand the battle scars. Were they worth it? Oh hell yes.