There’s presently a pile of dishes from last night staring at me from the kitchen sink. I will NOT do them, so they might as well stop looking at me. The only thing I intend to do to make these dishes go away is not to wash them, but to shave my legs.
You see, since I’m a cosmetologist I have privileged access to beauty stores and all the goodies therein. Available for me to purchase at a reasonable price is anything from your nail technician’s equipment to your industrial size, professional hair care. But the one goodie that really gets me tickled is the wax. You know, the wax.
On average, tattoo artists admit that woman have a higher threshold for pain than men. Considering the number of times I’ve locked myself in the bathroom to rip out my own hair, I’d have to believe that. You know me, frugal as ever. Why pay someone else to do it when I can do it myself – 20 times – for half the cost?
So once upon a time I intended to wax my legs. No biggie. Wasn’t the first time. The problem with waxing your legs is that the hairs need to be LONG enough for the wax to grab them. In an ideal world, three days worth of stubble would suffice. In reality, I need more like three weeks worth.
Brian, “When are you going to shave your legs?”
Me, “I’m not. I’m waxing them. The hair needs to be long enough to wax.”
Brian, “Do you haaaaaave to wax them?”
Me, “Yes! Waxing is so much better! It lasts so much longer than when I shave!”
Finally Brian proposed, “I’ll do the dishes if you shave your legs.”
Needless to say, my legs were shaved in a matter of minutes. Am I the luckiest girl in the world? Once again my powers of manipulation have grown so strong, that I don’t even have to make suggestions anymore. Apparently I just emit some kind of mind-bending force at all times. Consider yourself warned.
I expect a full report from all of your households three weeks from now.