Which do I value more, my hair or my life?

My life, of course.

Right? Right?

Well, I thought I did . . . until an incident at the gym last week, that is.

I'd finished my post-workout shower, and because of some dawdling on the upper-outer-thigh machine I was running behind schedule. I had 13 minutes to get ready for a major social event at which there would be a lot of attention paid to my appearance. That's right, I was going to a bris.

So I was hustling over to the blow-dryer, trying to decide between the Plum Stain lipstick and the Cashmere, when the fire alarm went off.

Wah, wah, wah.

Women all around me were shoving clothes into their bags and running out, some still wearing their shorts and sports bras. Chickens.

``I'm not leaving,'' I said to myself, with the calm that comes over a person who's finally made an important life decision.

``Whatever else happens,'' I thought, ``I'm not going to have a bad hair day today.''

A last hair day, maybe. But a bad hair day, no.

Sure, death by fire can be painful, but so can socializing when you don't feel good about yourself.

Wah, wah, wah.

Using my new round brush, I pulled a section of my wet hair taut and began to dry, starting at the roots as I'd been taught by a stylist, and curling under, moving from the back of the head to the front.

It was nice and quiet in the locker room - between alarm blasts, I mean - so I took the time to think about the pros and cons of putting grooming ahead of life itself.

Cons: I have a family that depends on me, and would no doubt mourn my loss, on both a personal and a laundry level. And, after two years of lusting, I'd finally broken down and bought a pair of knee-high black boots (which probably are out of style now).

Pro: How often does a fire alarm actually pan out?

How many people have left their desks, or hotel beds or gym locker rooms, only to waste valuable time shivering outside, forced to make small talk with workplace rivals or pajama-clad acquaintances, when inside the nonburning building the paperwork is piling up, or a room-service meal is getting cold, or, in my case, a wet head of hair is drying in a very unflattering way.

And for what? To avoid a fire that might - or, more probably, might not - be raging?

Hey, if I were that risk-averse, I wouldn't use a blow-dryer at all - those things can ignite if used improperly.

And besides, as a bris guest said when I told her of the gamble I'd taken to be there: ``It's quality of life that counts, not just life.

``And anyway,'' she added, ``Your hair is your life.''

She was right. Besides, as you may have guessed, the gym didn't burn after all. They were just testing the system.

I live to blow-dry another day!