That’ll teach me to mix hair removal and paper writing

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Dear Eve,

 

I also have a date with a freak
this weekend.  I hate to admit it, but
it’s probably not off to a very good start if I feel the need to refer to him
in this manner.  I was supposed to call
Jacob this week to make skating plans.  I
was going to call him Sunday night but I was too busy, then Monday night I was
out and Tuesday I called late.  I think I
finally understand the power men have when they are the ones doing the calling
and women are waiting on the other end. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for
men—waiting for them to call, waiting for them to mature and catch up to me, to
stop looking down my shirt and start paying attention to my mind. I grew up
thinking that if I just sit by the phone and wait my prince will come. Mom made
us think that all we had to do was turn our sunny faces to the window and he would
magically appear like the jingle of an ice cream truck.

 

Jacob and I met while building a
house for Habitat for Humanity, and we rollerbladed back together from the
site; it was so romantic with all the buses rushing by and blowing exhaust in
our faces while I kept tripping in potholes. 
He invited me to a group skate on campus which sounds really fun.  What does one wear on a skating date? My best
spandex? A little makeup or the natural sweaty look? Okay, so maybe it’s not a
date if there are two hundred other people present.  Only thing is it may be a bunch of crazy,
avid bladers whose idea of fun is to skate through traffic at breakneck
speed.  I knew it was a bad sign when he
asked me how many miles I do a day. 

 

Last night I was working on my film
paper and after two paragraphs decided that I absolutely must remove my upper
lip hair.  That very moment.  I couldn’t analyze another camera angle until
I was mustache free, so I ran into the bathroom and my roommate Debbie was
there.  Now this is a process that needs
to be done alone as you have to stuff your nostrils with kleenex to keep from
inhaling the odor and losing consciousness, but I didn’t care—I got out the
Nair and went to it.  But we got to
talking and then I went back to my paper, and all of a sudden I realized that I
had no clue how long this toxic stuff had been on my skin.  I rushed into the bathroom and removed it
immediately.  All the hair came off,
along with a couple layers of skin, so all day I had this little red rash on my
upper lip.  That’ll teach me to mix hair
removal and paper writing.

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