There are some times I feel like I'm complaining unnecessarily. But then again, there are times when completely bizarre and uncomfortable things happen to me that don't seem as if they're within the realm of reasonable existence.
Example:
En route to the gym this afternoon, I called my dad to confirm that we were having dinner and going to trivia night with his friends, and he answered the phone, "So, you're getting waxed today at 3:30?" Not "Hi" - "you're getting waxed."
Which was true - I had made an appointment that morning at Spa Maison for a bikini wax since I'm going on vacation imminently.
But I try to keep such things between the aesthetician (aka "waxer") and myself. And maybe my mom. Or Kathleen.
Under most circumstances, I like to let my dad believe that I wear cute dresses under my cute dresses and never do anything more than hold hands with a boy (which is, of course, true - Hi Dad! Hi Sumner!).
It's not that he's super prudish - if anything, it's for fear of discovering how not prudish he is. On a Tuesday night most people's Dads are... at home? I'm not sure. But most Tuesday's my dad's at a bar (his or one of the two country clubs he belongs to). Which is fun, and exactly what I would be doing if I were a 50-something single man, and exactly what I'd be doing if I weren't - you know - in the library or the YDN building on a Tuesday night. But I'm the only person I know who is jealous of how their father spends his nights (and also the only person I know who has been mistaken for both the girlfriend of their father and the girlfriend of their teenage brother).
So it might make for some awkward dinner discussion.
On the plus side though, he paid for it and left a tip and probably we'll laugh about it, then sip our water delicately, then change the subject.
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