Mean Girls

I am pretty sure I was bullied by dog groomers. I made an appointment for our puppy, Max, to get a haircut. I am never letting my husband near the shears again. As you may recall, Sweeney Todd transformed our adorable dog into a rat with his last cut. I am surprised our neighbors didn’t call animal control. That dog looked, to quote an old friend, “tore up from the floor up.”

The only appointment available in the next few weeks was 2:30 yesterday. The time was smack in between when my 5-year-old and oldest son get out of school. So, I parked as close as I could to the elementary school building. I made the kids run to the car like we were competing in “The Amazing Race.” I didn’t make eye contact with the crossing guard. I didn’t have time to get into another argument with a lady who should have retired 10 years ago. We made it to the groomer right on time. I stood with our dog, waiting for someone to check him in. Finally, after 5 minutes passed I asked a cashier, “Can I drop him off real quick I have to pick my son up from school.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away. I wanted to scream, “I saw that!”

I could see, through the glass door, her speaking to three groomers in their early twenties. Then, like synchronized swimmers, they all turned to gawk at the bitch who demanded good customer service. One girl made a comment and they all started laughing. I got red faced. I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflective window. What the hell were they laughing at? I looked good. I flat ironed my hair and was wearing make up. This rarely happens at the same time. Another girl said something that caused the only male groomer to laugh so hard he was hunched over. Well, that or he was choking on the fur of a Yorkshire Terrier. What on earth were they saying about me? Finally, one of the girls came out. She pretended to be nice. It was just like the movie “Mean Girls,” but instead of wearing designer clothes the bullies were in smocks and clipping dog nails. I reluctantly handed over our family pet. I fought the urge to talk smack since this girl graduated high school when I entered peri menopause. It wasn’t easy.

Read more: CynicalMother.com

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