The other day I tried acupuncture for the first time. I’m not fond of doctors and even have something called “white coat syndrome,” which means I see a lab coat and my blood pressure and pulse skyrocket. Anyway, I was bummed to see the acupuncturists wearing white coats. They were sweet because all medical measurements indicated I was stressed and that’s not an ideal way to be for the optimum acupuncture treatment. I assured them I was fine and after a few needles went in, Aaron my main stickman says, “You take the needles very well.”
I didn’t say it out loud but thought, “Dude, you’re dealing with an Italian girl. I’ve got years of electrolysis under my belt. This is cake.” Then I wondered if he didn’t see that my left arm looks like I’m a cutter.
Seems Princess Piggy Poo has taken to crawling up my left sleeve. I’ll be holding her and suddenly she’s burrowing into my sleeve with a strong conviction. This is okay when I’m wearing two long-sleeved shirts but when her little nails hit flesh, well, they’re sharp. She runs up and makes herself comfortable but if she gets a whim, up she goes. My little Princess has already doubled in size but this doesn’t deter her. (My friend Buffy is right; I do wear my clothes too big.) Extracting her can be an ordeal. It’s like birthing a breach baby, sometimes I have to reach in there and turn her around so she can squirt out headfirst into her cage.
The guy at the pet store says I can bring her in for a $10 mani/pedi, or just get an emery board and have at it. Do you have any idea how to get a wiggly piggy to sit still for that? It’s not like a human baby where you can wait until they’re asleep to trim their nails, I’ve never even seen Princess Piggy Poo close both eyes at the same time. Prey animals don’t have the luxury of sound sleep. Guinea pigs have white coat syndrome for everything so how can I blame her for wanting the security of the dark tunnel that holds my arm. Despite the scratches, she’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had up my sleeve.