Dear Speedo Long-Hair Silicone Swim Cap,
I heart you.
Forgive me for gushing, but I've never met a cap like you before. I just can't explain how much I lurve you, oh cap.
I figured I was just doomed to have my cap suck the life off my head forever. Or, until I cut off my hair. And the last time I made a drastic haircut was in 1998...ten inches, cap. With some nice layers, too. You know who else had dark hair with layers that was shoulder-length and made some BAD PRESS in 1998? Let me give you a hint: it rhymes with Schmonica Ploominsky. And I was a bit overweight. And student teaching 8th graders.
Never. Again. Cap. Never again can I cut my hair short.
So I just figured I was doomed to my ears being pinched and mumbling obscenities as I fixed my cap three times in one 20 minute time trial. Or even trying to perfect the one-armed cap-fix during a race. I've gotten quite good at that, actually.
And then I met you.
Long-hair cap, you will be with me forever. I never knew I could feel this way about a cap. Now I don't have to cut off my hair OR have my brain sucked out the top of my plastic-coated head.
As far as love is concerned, you fall somewhere above delicious enchiladas, the color red, and lip gloss, and slightly behind Stadium Mustard and peanut butter.
(Trust me, cap...that's not an easy spot to earn.)