Hungry for it

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The office was quiet. The morning was easing itself towards daytime and people were getting into a nice rhythm of work. Sara was cutting swathes through her tasks and sipping on her coffee when she realized she was beginning to feel a bit peckish. She had already eaten the snack she had brought with her to stave off exactly this situation, but obviously it hadn’t worked.

She looked at the digital clock in the corner of her computer screen. It was just over an hour to lunch, so she should be able to last it out. She continued with her work and sipping on her coffee. Maybe that would fool her stomach into feeling full.

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Wax on, wax off

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O. M. G.  It is sooo totally waxing that I hate the most about my job. I did beauty therapy because I wanted to play with make-up all day, but I got landed with doing ALL the waxing in this place. It is, like, totes ridic at this stage, roight? I’ve asked Candide when I will be able to do facials, or at least spray tans, but she still has me doing waxes.

The bikini ones are the worst. It never, like, occurred to me that I would basically see more vaginas in a day than, like, Tiger Woods. But at least I know I’m defo not a lesbo. Some of them look so, like, weird, with big lips or strange colours or out of shape. Not what you see on porn videos at all. But then you’re basically pulling out people’s pubes all day long. Some people aren’t so bad, if they are regular waxers. But the people that decide to try it out or want to put on a swimsuit after the winter? Like, OMG, sometimes it’s a total forest. How can men put their faces in there?  And some of the women are so old, like, in their forties, maybe. Why do they even bother? Who would even want to look at them there at that age?

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