the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Another one for my legal team

I have a friend who works as a massage therapist and who also performs various body-part waxes, eyebrows and legs and a few naughty, NC-17 areas. She recently decided to start working out of her home because it turns out that work politics at a salon are no different than those in a regular office environment, there’s just as much bureaucracy surrounding a curling iron as there is a PowerPoint slide. Plus, there’s always someone in a salon who is on her period. She called and said she’d appreciate any referrals and for a brief moment I thought, hey, I could just go to her for all my waxing needs and then it hit me:

There is no bikini-waxer/client privilege.

Do I want someone in my social circle knowing and filing away the details of my follicular anatomy? Because you know I’m going to be out to dinner with someone who is also friends with the waxer and she’s going to give me a disdainful look that says, “WE ALL KNOW.”

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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