Sometimes when I have to make a first impression I freak out. Just a little.
In protest, I put off getting ready till the last minute. And when I can’t any longer, I run around the apartment with such fervor you’d think it was on fire. Hair thrown into a sumo bun, trying on clothes that never seem to fit me the way I want and wondering why I just don’t invest in spanx already.
I get wound up. I start…to sweat. Especially when I’m freaking out in the bathroom because the light is too dim to actually see my face to put makeup on.
“Stop it Lys. Seriously, stop sweating. STOP. IT.”
“Are you having a breakdown?” Roo calls out from the living room. He’s already dressed, shoes on and car keys in hand. He’s been ready for thirty minutes.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Talking to yourself while looking at yourself in the mirror stops underarm perspiration.”
“I don’t think it -”
“It’s a thing!”
