Better late than never, right?
The top of chapter 9 brings us something new and unexpected: Lola enjoying something.
A good long soak in a tub full of warm water is one of life’s greatest pleasures, as far as I’m concerned. Bath time is serious business, and I’ve invested in an assortment o bath oils, crystals, scented soaps, and loofahs to ensure it goes well.
Enjoy the first few paragraphs while they last, because as she soaks, she starts brooding about her problems.
I wondered how long Hubert would stay. In the meantime, his boxes would take up most of the living room. Thank God he didn’t have any furniture to move.
Kae had furniture to move. Flutterguy managed to save his dresser with his soft, fleshy body, but two of the drawers were disintegrated. Furthermore, his desk was more or less stolen at the last minute — he traded a dresser for the desk, but at the last minute the desk was declared untradeable and he left empty-handed. He had a bed, though. He was glad to stop sleeping on our couch.
Hubert has none of that. Just boxes and boxes and no place to unpack them. He’s sleeping in a strange bed, in strange sheets (he might be itchy if he’s got sensitive skin and she doesn’t use sensitive laundry soap), in a strange house (getting up to pee in the middle of the night is nerve-wracking when you don’t know your way by feel to the bathroom and have to rely on your limited nightvision), relying on Lola for food and hospitality. Everything’s strange and different and to top things off, the warm body he’s used to sleeping next to at night isn’t there so it’s hard to sleep, and she might never be there again, he might never see her smile or hear her laugh….
This has been your moment of empathy. Now back to your regularly scheduled narcissism.
I thought about baking some muffins for Brother Jasper and the Cho boys as a thank you and then decided against it. Better to send Harry & David pears and let the UPS man do the delivery. A personal gift without getting too personal.
When I was away at school, I took it upon myself to bake treats for the roleplaying group i’d joined every week. The guys brought things from the market — chips, candies, sometimes one of them would go to the German markets and bring a more exotic treat. Baking, and being the Designated Tasty Treat Bringer, seemed like a great way to win them over rapidly as well as asserting myself in a traditionally feminine way just before engaging in more traditionally masculine activities. I’ve been considering bringing in cookies to work sometime — occasionally someone will bring in zucchini bread or something. Anyway, suffice it to say I don’t consider baked goods to be “too personal”. And why is she so worried about getting personal? Maybe she’s got some social anxiety?
Oh hey, Mindy and Jessica arrived! And barged right in on Lola. Oh god, I’m not sure I can take three of her.
Mindy could push my buttons like no one else. I tried never to lose my cool around her because seeing me riled was one of her greatest pleasures. Staying calm in her presence was a perpetual challenge.
I can sympathize. (Unlike Lola. Okay, that’s a bit harsh, but…)
One year, [Mindy] gave me a one-month membership to her fitness club for my birthday, for the sole purpose, I’d concluded, of drawing attention to the fact that she was a size two and I was a size eight. On my good days.
I’d like to make a point about how informed flaws aren’t really believable if they’re coming from someone who sees the worst in everyone, but I’m distracted by the fact that Lola feels bad about being a size eight. I just bought jeans in a size 22. Screw her.
(Ok, I know, mass media, patriarchy, unhealthy body image, sizeism, anorexia, but can I just be tired of books and TV portraying size 10 as hideously fat? Thanks.)
Other things Mindy has given her:
- A photoshoot at Glamour Shots.
- a blind date (with an older guy who never married and loves Star Trek)
All to “point out her shortcomings”. You know, what do you give someone who hates her life but won’t take steps to improve it? Especially if she takes all your reparations as negatively as possible?
Anyway, all Mindy wants today is to show off the photos from the bridal show. Hubert lures her away from the half-naked Lola with the promise of wine and his company, and Lola takes a moment to wax shallow about Jessica and Mindy:
Guys noticed [Jessica] for her long legs and big bazongas. the combination made her look like such a knockout that they never seemed to notice that she was only pretty in a horsey-face kind of way. Mindy, with her curly chestnut-colored hair, button nose, and big doe-eyes, was the prettier of the two, but her petite build couldn’t compete with Jessica’s Amazonian height and porn-star proportions.
Ladies out there? Please. Don’t do this. Don’t tear each other apart like this. It’s shallow and hurtful and just entirely unnecessary. I’m sure Jessica feels awful about her height and Mindy feels shitty about her small chest and they could probably both use a compliment instead of this nasty ripping-into.
When she arrives (comparing Hubert to Hugh Hefner), she finds the trio sipping “what looks like grape juice” and giggling over an old yearbook.
“You were so skinny in high school,” Mindy said, tapping the page and then pointing the same finger at me. “Wow, what a difference.”
Alright, fuck that bitch. I got nothing.
Anyway, wine is drunk. Laughter is had. The wedding date is mentioned — the third Saturday in August. (holy fuck I’m glad I’m getting married the second Saturday in August). But wait, what’s this? There’s been a double-booking! She’s moved the wedding…
to Lola’s 30th birthday.
That’s about the shittiest thing you can do, honestly. That’s just uncalled for. You should bring it to her attention and ask if she minds before you go ahead and do something like that.
“Why not? You got something better to do that day?”
Someone needs to set her gown on fire. Not while she’s in it, just to make her suffer.
“Not too many brides would want to share their special day with their sister.”
Maybe her hair.
“[The cake bakery] agreed to make us an extra cake”
[...]“For those who prefer chocolate?”
“No, silly [...] for your birthday. [...] Then Chad will announce that it’s your thirtieth birthday and I’ll lead the singing. [...] She’s always so shy,” Mindy said to Hubert. “But once she’s in the spotlight, she’ll love it.”
” No, I won’t love it,” I said. “Do not do this.”
“It’ll be great,” Mindy said, as if I hadn’t spoken.
Maybe her dress while she’s in it.
Ugh, I can’t take any more of her tonight.