So I went to the dentist on Friday and she opened my mouth and said, “I guess you’ve never had any orthodontic work done.” To which I replied that yes, I had braces as a teen. Her response? “Oh, they must not have used retainers BACK THEN.”
Ouch.
After that, my crooked teeth and I went to the mall to get my bushy eyebrows threaded. By the way, if you haven’t had this done before, let me tell you, it is brutal. The dentist poking my gums until I bled like a stuck pig hurt less.
I knew the threader was at a kiosk which meant running the gauntlet between the other chichi overpriced vendors… and one in particular. I tried to dodge it by going up a flight of stairs and taking the elevator down, but NO, the brow lady was in direct line of sight of the flat-iron kiosk.
You could almost see them rubbing their hands together when they saw my frizz a-coming. They could use me as an example. People would flock. People would oooh and aaah. People would buy. The sales team converged on me like bees to honey. “No, no thank you, no.” I said, walking briskly, my hand partially shielding the frizz. “I have your product. This is what I look like WITH your product.”
When I got home to let myself disappear into the blogosphere for a few minutes (or an hour) with the help of a friend I’ll call Little Debbie, my comment word verification was:
“Flabi.”
Thanks, world.
Ouch.
After that, my crooked teeth and I went to the mall to get my bushy eyebrows threaded. By the way, if you haven’t had this done before, let me tell you, it is brutal. The dentist poking my gums until I bled like a stuck pig hurt less.
I knew the threader was at a kiosk which meant running the gauntlet between the other chichi overpriced vendors… and one in particular. I tried to dodge it by going up a flight of stairs and taking the elevator down, but NO, the brow lady was in direct line of sight of the flat-iron kiosk.
You could almost see them rubbing their hands together when they saw my frizz a-coming. They could use me as an example. People would flock. People would oooh and aaah. People would buy. The sales team converged on me like bees to honey. “No, no thank you, no.” I said, walking briskly, my hand partially shielding the frizz. “I have your product. This is what I look like WITH your product.”
When I got home to let myself disappear into the blogosphere for a few minutes (or an hour) with the help of a friend I’ll call Little Debbie, my comment word verification was:
“Flabi.”
Thanks, world.
