Let me preface this by saying I'm pregnant. I don't get out much. And I'm living with my in-laws.
I know you don't know what any of those things are yet, I hope, and let me tell you, you shouldn't. Continue to enjoy what seems to be your obsession with post-Justin pre-baby Britney Spears. Because really, it's all downhill from there.
And clearly, that's saying something.
I realize that it must have seemed a bit odd, me waving you off as I decided to test what turned out to be overpriced room sprays...
ON MY WRISTS.
But let me assure you. I'm really not that uncultured or stupid.
Much to my horror, I had just been awakened from my 60-minute facial by some woman named Elizabeth claiming to be an aesthetician. Clearly, I had seen Johnny Depp rubbing my face. Smelling of clove cigarettes. And raw passionate sex.
In a nutshell, I was discombobulated and clearly out of sorts.
So, I thank you, with every pregnant breath I have, for not pointing out that I was indeed leaving the spa doused in "Summer Fresh" and "Lavendar Escape," your new line of aromatherapy room sprays, and for checking me out with an absolutely straight face - not even one eye roll or chuckle to be seen.
I'm not sure I would have had as much willpower. And for that, I admire you. You go with your blonde streaked hair, and brown-lined lipped self.
You won't hear any complaints from me.
That Pregnant Woman