My cleaning woman got a boob job. But she also drives a Mercedes so it’s painfully clear to me that I’m in the wrong business. I was completely unaware that a career in the domestic sanitation field could be so lucrative.
On top of my ignorance about job-choice economics, I also hadn’t ever really noticed that “Trixie” was a candidate for breast enhancement surgery.
I may not have noticed she needed implants but I could certainly tell she got them. It was hard not to. When she showed up to clean last Friday in a tight white t-shirt that could have easily said Hooters on it, my mouth dropped to my own bosom.
“Nice, huh?” She raised her eyebrows at me and winked.
“Uhh. . . sure,” I said. Feeling like I should make some kind of a positive and supportive comment I added, “Wowser.”
“They look good, right?” Trixie turned to show her profile.
“They certainly look substantial.”
“Yes they do,” she said as she lifted up her shirt to reveal an industrial type of bra similar to the one I wear. “I have to wear this stupid granny do-hickey for a few weeks until they can stand on their own.”
“Hmmm,” I muttered to no one in particular. “It’s not bad – kinda sexy in a maternal sort-of-way.”
Trixie ignored my as she weighed her new breast in her hands. “Four hundred cc’s. Each.”
“I got four hundred cc’s of solution in each breast. It’s like a DD size. I didn’t want to go too big.” And before I could say “bigger is not always better”, she unhooked her granny do-hickey to reveal her new and improved self. Trixie nodded at me proudly, “Go ahead, touch em.”
I knew it might be a while before I ever got that kind of an offer and frankly I was curious so I obliged. I poked and prodded at her new additions. They felt hard and weird like a pregnant woman’s misplaced belly. Of course, it was at this moment that my partner, Dawn walked in.
“I’m sorry,” she said as I quickly pulled my hand off Trixie’s breast, “Am I interrupting?”
“Gosh no,” I exclaimed. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It never is,” she said sweetly.
“No really, look.” And like Vanna White on the Price is Right, I offered up Trixie’s humongous chest. “She had some work done.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Dawn’s eyes grew as biggie as Trixie’s boobs as she took in the site.
Trixie was then kind enough to offer Dawn the same opportunity for a quick feel as she had me. It’s a hard offer to resist and Dawn was as drawn in as I had been, poking and prodding Trixie’s chest like a pro.
“Don’t worry, you can’t break them.” Trixie told us. “Well, I guess you could puncture them. It does happen, you know. My doctor told me that if I notice my chest deflating, I need to give him a call.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“Yeah, and I’m still a little sore.” She slowly lifted both her arms to reveal dark bruises from her elbows to the middle of her torso. “They insert the bags through your armpits.”
Both Dawn and I folded our arms across our own chest and I imagined how a man might feel being kicked in the groin. I think it would hurt. Alot. I was hard-pressed to envision a guy ”taking one for the team” in that particular region.
“Okay, Trix,” Dawn sat back, her arms still folded. “Do you mind if I ask you how much the new additions cost?”
“Well. I got a family discount because my sister had the surgery last year. It’s about $7000. But I get one year to pay for it.”
“Ah, they have a credit plan. Clever.”
“Yeah, but if it’s not paid back at the end of the year, they charge me thirty-percent interest.” Trixie carefully re-holstered her big guns.
“Thirty-percent!” Dawn and I stared at each other. “Trixie, are you telling me that if you don’t pay in full, you have to pay 30% on the outstanding balance?” Again, I am in the wrong business.
“No, not on the outstanding balance, on the total.” Trixie tucked in her skin-tight t-shirt and picked up her mop.
“That’s highway robbery, Trixie! How can you afford it?”
“I am going to have to work more hours. And weekends, too. $7000 is a lot of houses to clean.”
I thought I detected a tinge of regret in her voice. A $7000 bill that needs to be paid off in one year is staggering – for anyone.
“Well, good luck,” Dawn told her.
“Yeah, thanks.” Trixie grabbed her bucket of cleaning supplies and started out of the office. “I forget to mention,” she added as she began pulling the door shut, “I’m going to need a raise.”