Page 18 of Pour Decisions
“So, muscles atrophy when they aren’t used regularly.”
“My vagina is not going to atrophy.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Fine, I’ll go see him tonight.”
“Good, now take a nap in case your up all night again. And don’t forget to shave your legs. And anything else that may need some maintenance.”
“I just had a wax, thank you very much.”
“Well, then my job here is done.” She claps her hands together, as though dusting them off. “What time is the thing over tonight?”
“Should be wrapped up by nine thirty or ten o’clock.”
“Okay, I’ll be at your house by seven thirty to help you pick out an outfit.”
“Thank you,” I soften my voice, hoping she hears the gratitude in it.
“What are friends for?” She blows me a kiss before disconnecting the call.
I curl up on my bed with my favorite pillow and am asleep in minutes.
* * *
“Please tell me you’ve already showered?” Tess’ voice pulls me from the void of sleep, forcing my eyes to open.
“I’ve already showered,” I say, even though I haven’t.
“Oh, thank god, because I’m late, which means so are you.”
I sit up slowly, “What time is it?”
“Ten after eight.”
“Ohmigod, Tess! Why did you let me sleep so long? I haven’t showered or shaved my legs or anything.”
“Better hop to it, chickie. I’ll start going through your closet.”
I rush to the bathroom and do my best to hurry through a shower, only nicking my legs twice as I shave them. Curious as to why I don’t just have them waxed at the same time as my lady parts. In case you’re wondering, I never have an answer to that question. It’s just something I continue to ponder as life passes me by.
I make it back to my bedroom in what I feel is record time, where Tess has got clothes strewn about my bed surrounding one outfit, laid out like a person, complete with accessories surrounding, and shoes on the floor.
“You want me to wear that?” I ask.
“Got a problem with it?” she returns.
“I’ve just never worn that combination before. Those things don’t go together.”
“Of course they do, look, they’re together right now and they love it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Morgan, just because you bought two articles of clothing at the same time, that happened to be paired in the store, does not mean they can only be worn together forever and ever.”
“I know that!” I say, staring dubiously at the layout in front of me. She’s laid out a mustard-colored leather skirt that rides low on my hips and extends to mid-calf. It’s stitched asymmetrical even though the hem is even. It’s funky, and I usually wear it with an oversized sweater and cowboy boots. Tess has it paired with a crop top sweater with three-quarter length sleeves. Which I usually wear with high-waisted pants, ensuring the crop is showing no skin. With Tess’ combo, I’m showing a good two to three inches of midriff. She’s got a pair of open-toed ankle boots on the floor, assorted necklaces draping the front, and a slouchy purse to go with it. The whole look is very bohemian. I’m positive I can’t pull it off.
“I wear those boots with jeans,” I tell her.
