Below The Belt

Me: Sorry it’s been a little while.This is probably not going to be that pleasant for me. <Nervous laughter.>

Nicole: So why are you here today?

Me: Uh… I… Um…

Listen, Nicole. I’m obviously here to endure excruciating pain while hair from my nether region is ripped from its resting place. In my overactive imagination, the story I’m sure she wants to hear goes something like this:

I met the most beautiful, charming, rich, non-commitment-phobe man last week and we’ve spent all 216 hours that we’ve known each other together; if we’re not together, we are texting, emoji-ing, tweeting, facebooking, g-chatting, and hey-tell-ing. We’re in love! BUT we’ve waited to have sex because we wanted it to be special and…. well… TONIGHT. IS. THE. NIGHT! And YOU are my chosen waxing lady to make sure that all goes perfectly!

Me: I… uh… am going to California soon?

Nicole: Oh, really? When?

Me: May 22?

Nicole: Oh. Well it’s too soon for that!

Me: Yeah… Well… I guess I’m just starting to get myself ready for the summer?

Note to self: Don’t lapse on your waxing if you don’t want to endure the scrutiny and judgment of your new esthetician.


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