'I think my nipples are ugly.' I say out loud to Angus, who is in the other room on the computer.

I am in the bathtub after a very long day, looking at my breasts. I have spent over 6 hours on conference calls in London, and my right ear (my good listening ear) is bright red and sore. And I'm not saying it's red and sore in any kind of metaphor-my ear actually was red and sore. I got home late from London after having my pocket picked (and me being relieved of a few Kleenex and the train ticket I needed to get home. I was pissed off that my train ticket was taken but comforted in the fact that at least the thief also had to contend with a handful of snotty Kleenex.) and after dealing with The Rooster all afternoon.

When I finally got home on a late train, Angus was in the kitchen cooking up a fantastic Thai dinner. He hugged me, kissed me, and told me he would've drawn the bath for me but wasn't sure what time I'd be home and wasn't sure which of my huge jar of Lush products I'd want to use. So I dragged my ass upstairs and ran a bath, popping in a Lush bubble bar that was bright pink and smelled of candy, and I leaned back in the hot water, one of my Valentine's Day presents tooling around the bathtub around me. Angus came in and provided me with a glass of champagne and then went into the computer room.

'Really?' replies Angus from the other room, half-paying attention.

'Yup. They're ugly. Then again, maybe all nipples are ugly.' I say.

Clearly, I am a deep existentialist. I sip my champagne and reach for a peanut butter cracker off a plate nearby, a snack that I had brought up with me.

'Except for your nipples.' I say again to the echo of the bathroom. 'You have lovely nipples.'

'Why thank you.' He replies, attention elsewhere.

I look at my leg, which has an ingrown hair that looks like a tiny ant bite. I set my cracker on the bathtub edge and I dig at the hair for a minute.

'Do you think Playboy has a nipple inspector?' I wonder out loud.

'What?' he replies.

'Playboy. You know, the magazine? Do you think they have a nipple inspector? Someone whose job it is to ensure that they never have ugly nipples?' I eat the peanut butter cracker, chewing slowly and not minding that one corner of it got wet and is soggy. Peanut butter crackers, champagne, and pink candy-scented bubbles. This is clearly one of the best baths ever.

'Insufficient data to formulate an answer.' He replies.

Clearly he's impressed with how deep I am, too.

'Hey Ugly Nipples?' he calls.

I take no offense. After all, I think I do have ugly nipples. 'Yes?'

'Come here and look at this website.' He replies. I drag myself out of the bath, smelling like a candy-scented French whorehouse, and leave wet prints on the floor as I walk into the study, munching on a cracker.

We surf the web for a while and then eat one of the best Thai meals that Angus has ever made us. I've never been a fan of Thai food but I can see that maybe, as time passes, I will be. We watch the last in the series of Auschwitz, finish off the drink, and then curl up in bed, falling asleep.

This morning I am train-bound again into London with my Big Fucking Projector, my briefcase, and a bit of a champagne headache. It's a full-day of meetings ahead and people are already stressed. I get up early and idle around. I make us coffee. I ask Angus if was can have ten-minute sex, since I have a train to catch and I am desperate to have a little bit of loving. He smilingly obliges me and we whisk ourselves off to bed for a quickie. Afterwards, I am getting dressed while he sits there and watches.

In an effort to feel confident and strong, it's matching underwear for me today, so I pull out a pink bra and a pink thong. I then reject the thong in favor of black satin boy shorts with pink bows.

'Why are you rejecting the pink thong?' Angus asks.

'Because when I go to the toilet I have to see my bikini hair around my thong, and it makes me feel like Marlon Fucking Perkins should be there managing the chimp ranch.'

'What?' he asks.

'My bikini line needs addressing, and I hate being reminded of that.' I reply. And it does need addressing. I would do it now, only we're off on holiday next weekend and I actually will be in a bikini and will actually need to have it addressed just before then. To do it now would mean multiple waxings, something I can't face.

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman.

Giving all your love to just one man and all.

Besides, Angus promised to trim my hedges this weekend and has designs on giving me a Nike Swoosh, which makes me grin.

'Does it really matter?' he asks.

'Well yes. Say I get in an accident, and they cut off my tights to reveal pubes peeking up from the sides of my thong. That just wouldn't be on. Imagine the horror. People would run screaming from the theatre.' It creases me up that they call operating rooms 'theatres' here, as though there should be actors and a courteous intermission in which one can buy a glass of wine or a souvenir program.

'Shouldn't you be more concerned that medical treatment would be the priority?' he replies.

I love the way he talks. I look at him with a serious expression. 'One would think.' I intone solemnly. 'One would think.'

I continue to get dressed. I don a wraparound wool skirt and a white shirt, before heading into Angus' side of the closet and stealing one of his ties. 'Can you put this on me? I want to wear a tie today.'

'Why?'

'I'm dressing executive.' I reply.

'You'll look like a schoolgirl.' He says.

Oh yeah. I'd forgotten that they all wear ties here. I went to public school in the States, which meant the only thing we coordinated was the current 'in' lunchbox. Personally, I was hoping that I would come off corporate. That, and I have been thinking about Square Pegs recently and I really feel that one of Sarah Jessica Parker's genius strokes was introducing the tie in the 1980's. I'd like to think I am helping usher in the Square Pegs move of the new century, only I am not as thin and have straight hair.

Deep. I am very, very deep.

I wait at the freezing train station and text Angus that I love his penis more than any other penis in the world. This is true. I haven't seen them all, but I am partial.

I catch the train into London and meet Ron in Waterloo, where we usually catch each other up on the project on the way in to Dream Job offices. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

'What the hell are you wearing?' he asks.

I adjust the Big Fucking Projector and look him in the eyes. 'It's a tie. It's a form of elegant yet restraining men's wear. I can understand if you've never been exposed to it.'

He grins. I try to turn up my corporate notch inside myself, when the truth is I feel like a bundle of exposed wires in my stomach. He asks me about the new project plan we worked on yesterday.

'Are you ready? You're going to meet some resistance.' He warns.

'Hey man.' I reply, looking straight ahead. 'It'll be cool. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down.'

Although we do tend to get a bit motion sick.

-H.

PS-my other Valentine's Day present (along with a great cookbook) was this fab little gadget, which Angus personalized with a sweet message for me. It's an LED clock!

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:29 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 1384 words, total size 8 kb.

1 Cool clock and duck. I am sure the meeting is going to be no sweat. I mean from dealing's with senior mangement, they are usually the most easy going fun bunch. I mean miss a deadline? no problem push it back to the 2nd quarter....

Posted by: drew at February 16, 2005 01:12 PM (CBlhQ)

2 Have I ever mentioned that I used to be a nipple inspector? Normally there's a modest fee for my services, but becuase I like you so much, I'll look at yours at no charge. Several photos from lots of angles and distances will be needed. I think that about 20 should do it. ;-)

Posted by: Easy at February 16, 2005 01:22 PM (jv18i)

3 "The Chimp ranch"? When am I going to learn to wait to read you, which I do every day, until AFTER I have finished drinking my coffee. You will be the death of me, you will. F*ck Rooster and the horse he rode in on. Go get 'em!

Posted by: RP at February 16, 2005 01:34 PM (LlPKh)

4 I've finally found another woman who considers whether her nipples are attractive -- something I've wondered about mine for years. Ah Helen, my doppelganger.

Posted by: kitty at February 16, 2005 01:53 PM (pk6Rj)

5 You know, I got a very similar comment the last time I wore a tie into work from one of my friends in the office...

Posted by: amber at February 16, 2005 02:04 PM (/ydz0)

6 One size does not fit all. I was never a tie girl, but the vintage blazer looked damn good on me. Could I bring that back or would I look like an old lady in a smelly coat?

Posted by: K at February 16, 2005 03:08 PM (l751k)

7 i think, when this project is over, that it will be time to make fried chicken. and roosters make the best dish, of course. what do you think, helen?

Posted by: becky at February 16, 2005 03:32 PM (/VG77)

8 There's something doubly sweet about having the same guy that made you look like an idiot and got you in trouble with your boss making your boss like an idiot. I'm glad your manager has changed his tune. When is this hell project supposed to be finished, anyway?

Posted by: amy t. at February 16, 2005 03:40 PM (zPssd)

9 Okay, other than Angus I doubt anyone else reading your blog has seen your nipples, BUT I do believe that at some point in that hotel room in Paris I caught a glimpse and they were lovely. Or... maybe I just imagined it, but really, they are perfect boobs.

Posted by: emily at February 16, 2005 03:57 PM (2zW8B)

10 Great gifts! Glad you guys had a good V-Day. I'd rather look at a penis than nipples too. Any day. Nips leave me rather....blah-y. YAY FOR PENISES, though! (Although Dan has the prettiest..wouldn't that just TORQUE him if he knew I said it was "pretty"? Ahahahaha..)

Posted by: Amber at February 16, 2005 11:18 PM (zQE5D)

11 Time for that Rooster to change into a hen and fry that suck up!! An iron skillet, little hot, hot peanut oil, salt pepper and floured piece and you are ready to go. Entertainment factor-priceless, taste delicious. You go, Girl!! PS: If you have the time, soak pieces in buttermilk. Makes the hen very tasty!

Posted by: Azalea at February 17, 2005 12:35 AM (hRxUm)

12 Just had to drop back in and say a big "Thanks" Helen - since reading this post I've been singing "Stand by your man all afternoon" !! *groan* |

Posted by: flikka at February 17, 2005 03:52 AM (puvdD)

13 can I tell you how great that metaphor about weebles is?? can I borrow it, it really is that cool and of course because I am sure you rocked that meeting as much as I did mine bises!

Posted by: stinkerbell at February 17, 2005 02:46 PM (m18uI)

14 I don't like my nipples either! Oh, how I wish I could get 10-minute sex! "Quickie" is not in Mr. Quilty's vocabulary or repetoire. Much to my chagrin!

Posted by: ms.quilty at February 17, 2005 06:23 PM (WUM14)

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