“All he wants me for is sex and then when I do try and give it to him, he wants to do it the same way we always have, and I think there’s something wrong with me because I just don’t want to do it the same way we always have, and I don’t know if I want to be a dirty whore anymore even though he still wants a whore, and I just didn’t feel right calling him a slut on Saturday but maybe I will next time, but now I don’t even know if there ever WILL be a next time, and Jackson is just so nice and pretty and helpful and he knew immediately that I just wanted sleep and some help, and I don’t know what to do! What the fuck should I do if I don’t want to be a dirty whore anymore, Liz?!”
The sound of someone coughing stops my rant and Liz and I both turn to see one of the teachers from the kindergarten class standing behind us with a line of kids, everyone staring at us with eyes wide and mouths open. Twenty five-year-olds are looking at me like I’m crazy and who knows, I probably am. I think I’m cranking up. I’m going to have to leave my kids and go live in a nut house with my finger still stuck in my hair and I don’t even LIKE nuts.
“Mrs. Dellena, what’s a dirty whore?” one of the kids asks his teacher.
“Sorry, please excuse us,” Liz says with a kind smile to the teacher as she grabs my arm and drags me down the hall where there are no classrooms or children to horrify, forcing my finger to magically get unstuck from my hair.
“Yay, you did it!” I tell her, holding my finger up in front of her face.
She bats my finger out of the way and looks at me in shock. “What the fuck just came out of your mouth?”
“I thought I’d never be able to use this finger again,” I tell her in awe.
“Shut the hell up about your finger! What the hell is really going on with you and Drew?” she demands.
“I know. It’s a lot.”
“You’re damn right it’s a fucking lot. Why the hell haven’t you mentioned all of this before? I thought you guys were just going through a typical dry spell that everyone goes through when they have multiple kids. This is way beyond that. I want to kick Drew’s ass way more than usual right now,” she says angrily.
“It’s not all his fault,” I say with a sigh.
“The fuck it isn’t! You’re his wife. His soul mate. He should be taking care of you and making sure all of your needs are met, not leaving it up to the eye candy living across the street. And Jenny, that kid is total jailbait. You need to stop any and all thoughts you might be harboring about him.”
“Hey, don’t judge him just because he’s done time. He is a very nice person. And how the hell do you even know he was in jail?” I ask angrily.
“Jenny, he’s like nineteen! He’s thirteen years younger than you, and he lives with his mommy and daddy. Do you really think you can just divorce Drew and this kid is going to take on a thirty-two-year-old with two kids? How the hell is he going to support you with his paper route money?”
“Wait, what? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want to divorce Drew! Sure, Jackson is nice to look at and he’s a big help, but I don’t want to marry the guy! I love Drew. I just don’t know how to fix this,” I tell her as the tears I’ve been trying to keep inside begin falling.
“Oh thank fucking God,” Liz says in relief. “This, we can fix. We just need to kick Drew’s ass and get his God dammed head in the game. Why the hell haven’t you just told him all of this?”
“I don’t know! I thought he would just get it like he always has in the past. He’s always known what I wanted and needed and after a while, I just started getting pissed that he didn’t. Now that it’s gone on this long, I don’t know what the hell to do!” I wail.
“Lucky for you, I’m here. We’re going to fix this shit,” Liz tells me.
She puts her arm around my shoulder in a very uncharacteristic show of affection for her and we walk back to the classroom to pick up the girls while she plans a strategy.
~
“When you said you were going to fix things, this really isn’t what I had in mind,” I complain an hour later.
We drop Veronica off with Drew’s dad who was already watching Billy for the day, and Liz tells him in no uncertain terms that he needs to watch Molly as well. He calls her ma’am and scoops up both girls in the driveway and runs back into the house before we can even tell him how long we will be gone.
We are currently sitting in the waiting room of the local salon waiting for my turn to get a Brazilian wax.
“Before we can fix your shit, we need to fix your shit,” Liz says with a wave of her hand in the general direction of my vagina. “No man should have to get his penis caught in a jungle of pubic hair.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.
“It’s not that bad,” I complain.
“The last time you even took a razor to that area was seven months ago. It is THAT bad. The day you wanted me to look at your vagina I could see those things trying to jump ship out of the sides of your underwear. Your twat looked like one of those freaky clowns that’s bald down the middle of its white head with ginormous tufts of hair sprouting out by it’s ears.”
Before I can bitch at her about comparing my vagina to a clown’s head, the receptionist calls my name and we both stand up.
“Are you really going back there with me?” I ask.
“Hell yes I am. Your wish is finally coming true. I will see your vagina. Plus, I really want to see the look on that woman’s face when she gets a peek at your plethora of pubes. Your copious curls, your abundant bush, the wild mane that if it sees a spark will start a forest fire,” she states.
“Are you finished?” I ask irritably.
“I think so. But give me five minutes and I might be able to get one more in.”
“You are kind of dicky,” I tell her as we follow the receptionist into one of the private waxing rooms.
“Yes, and in just a few minutes, a dick will be able to find your vagina without needing night vision goggles and a weed whacker.”
“Okay, Jenny, if you want to just strip down and wrap the towel that’s on the table around your waist, the esthetician will be in shortly,” the receptionist says with a cheerful smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
“An anesthetician? Geeze, I had no idea they went to such extremes and the same guy who gives you an epidural during child birth does waxing now. Just how bad is this going to hurt?” I ask as I strip off my jeans and underwear.
“Holy fuck, Jenny! How does that shit even fit in your underwear?!” Liz yells as she laughs and points. “And the guy who gives you an epidural is an Anesthesiologist. I’m going to need a fucking anesthesiologist to numb my eyes after seeing this!”
I quickly turn away from her and wrap the towel around my waist so she can stop making fun of me. I reach for the hem of my shirt and begin pulling it up my stomach when Liz stops me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Uh, I’m stripping down like the girl told me to do,” I tell her with my hands still on the edge of my shirt and my stomach exposed.
“Do you have hairy tits or something? Why the hell would you need to take your shirt off?”
I huff at her in annoyance that she just expects me to know what hell I’m doing in this situation.
Pulling my shirt back down, I hop up on the table that’s covered in doctor’s office paper, careful to keep the towel firmly in place so Liz doesn’t come up with any more insults.
“Okay, so really, how long does this take? Is she just going to like, slop some wax right on the upper part and then rip it off?” I ask Liz.
“Uh, no. This is a Brazilian. She is going to get all up in your shit from your FUPA to your asshole,” Liz informs me with a completely serious look on her face.