Monday, August 9, 2010
Just Shoot Me
One minute she is saying, "Well if you ask me" and the technician's hand begins to shake...
One minute she is saying, "I tried to tell her that dress was all wrong" and suddenly, with an unfortunate jerk of the arm holding the needle,
"Don't say you heard it from me" becomes
Jennifer goes home.
"Foooooouuuuuuuhhhh," she says to her husband.
"Of course, dear," he replies mildly.
"Guuuhhhhhh! Fuhhhhh buuuuhhhhh!" she tries to explain, pointing to her mouth.
"I'd like to eat out, too. How about Chinese?"
That night, they are intimate. After all, it is Saturday.
"Fluuuhhhhh!" she shouts, drooling. What she means is,
"Are you done yet? Get off me."
Her husband cannot remember when he last saw her so excited.
Monday brings Garden Club. Jennifer is to address the other ladies on the subject of rose aphids.
"Bluh. Bluuhhha ayyyublubla..." she says, reading from notes.
The ladies eat cakes and whisper unkindly to each other about her new hairstyle. Afterward, they clap and tell her she was marvelous and that they've simply got to rush home and try all the remedies she suggested.
"Bluh boo," says Jennifer. She is trying to pronounce a common vulgar expression.
"Love you, too!" cry the ladies and kiss her cheek before getting into their Volvos.
Desperate, Jennifer turns to her children. She has their names written down in her date book for just such an emergency.
She babbles something incoherent to them, her eyes aglow with tenderness.
Her son goes on talking on the phone, messaging on his computer, and eating pizza. Yes, all at the same time.
Her daughter shrieks, "I knew you'd say no! I hate you!" then runs upstairs and slams the door to her room.
Jennifer is left standing in the hallway, alone.
"Bluh?" she asks no one in particular.
In time, the injection wears off.
"Bluhhh duhhh" becomes "goo bornee" becomes "good morning."
"I'll have toast" says her husband.
"I hate you!" says her daughter.
"Love you!" say all her friends, but they say that to everyone from the pool boy to their wretched poodles. It is completely meaningless chatter, like "how are you?".
It's been an ordeal.
Jennifer switches botox clinics.
Her worry lines vanish.