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by Ray

A Friend of the Family

The daughter of a "friend of the family" was getting married.  You can't refuse that sort of thing. The girl is genetically Middle Eastern stock, but is retrofitting her whole chassis to Barbie Doll standards.  Bleached hair, colored contact lenses, boob job, nose job, and buttocks fresh out of the box with the plastic wrapping, bar code and price tag still in place.

Oh well.  She's paying. 

She wouldn't know a stuffed grape leaf  if she found one in her boyfriend's drawers, but she's memorized everything Brittany Spears has ever worn, wiggled, or screeched. She refused to get henna for her first wedding, but when she found out Madonna et al fancied henna, she was ready to squeeze right into the hip pocket of  her designer camel toe jeans and shell out for megahenna for the second round.

I figured all she knew about henna was what she saw in "Frozen" so tried to explain a bit.  I did her hands first.  She was drinking heavenly and I was just afraid of her smearing all the fine lines I'd just laid down .....but well.....

After 3 tequilas and 4 shots she decided to strip and wiggle her silicone and lipo upholstery to Christina's "Dirty". She then decided to stop me (while I was doing Moroccan work on her sister) and decided she didn't like her hand and started to rub her still wet palms with the wet paste on whatever or whomever was nearby. Drunk and stupid. Great combination.  Maybe God made her dumb, but she got drunk all by herself, and then spiraled into sloppy and sorry.  Ugh.  Disaster! Should I start all over?  Should I feel bad or feel angry?  What the hell.  I went for angry.

Me: "Is the silicone from your tits leaking into your brain? Do you hate me? Do you hate yourself? What's your problem?"

She: "I am just druuuunk"

Me: "So f*ck off and henna your hands yourself"

I went to her mother, explained everything and gave her her money back. I couldn't to sell myself like this.  She has no respect for me, no respect for henna, no respect for her family or friends.  I went home with a gawdawful headache.  I felt miserable about the situation, and not great about the way I handled it. 

Later she called me later came to my mother's house and I hennaed her palms again this time with respect and love. 

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Catherine Cartwright-Jones
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