dingy sweatpants. This is the state Luanne found me in, nine days post breakup.
“Listen, Ellie, I know you’ve had your heart broken and you think you’re never going to find another man, but you’re starting to smell a little. I mean it. You’re coming dangerously close to bag lady.”
I reluctantly place the bottle of Reddi Whip on the coffee table and pause the movie on Colin Firth’s eager-to-fall-in-love face. “I’m in mourning, Lu. I’ve earned the right to feel bad for myself.”
“The only thing you’re earning is a bigger ass, lying on that sofa all day. You need to get up and get back out there. What about that guy Brook wanted to set you up with? What’s his name, Celery?”
“Ellery. His name is Ellery and I told Brook I’m not ready yet.” I turn away from her, pulling a wooly blanket over my head.
Luanne grabs the end of my blanket and yanks it away from me. I recoil from the cool air and wrap my arms around my knees, giving Luanne a dark look. She rolls her eyes and releases an exasperated sigh.
“Sugar, it’s get back on the horse time, understand? You don’t have to marry the guy, you just need an excuse to get yourself pretty again.”
“Hey!” I yell, affronted. “Are you calling me ugly?”
“Of course not, sweetie-pie. What I’m sayin’ is that your bloom has withered. But don’t fear, the petals have yet to fall. All you need is a shower, a push-up bra, and a smile.”
I will not be removed from my self-righteousness. I cross my arms and give Luanne my best haughty expression. “No, thank you. I’m fine where I am.”
Luanne lets out a derisive snort. “You have whipped cream in your hair, and those sweatpants? They aren’t supposed to be grey. They’re white.”
I reach for my hair in the most ladylike fashion I can muster and feel the telltale stiffness of hardened sugar. My indignation at Luanne’s blunt honesty fumbles.
“Now put on your party dress, Ellie, because you and me are gonna hit the town. I got a hunch there’s a dumb redneck with a fresh paycheck out there tonight, just waiting to get taken advantage of.”
“But—” I start.
“But nothing,” she says, snatching the whipped cream off the coffee table.
I want to put up more of a fight, but it’s hard to be self-righteous when you can feel crumbs in your bra. “Excuse me,” I say, rising from the couch, “I’ll be right back.”
Head held high, I square my shoulders and make my way to the bathroom, not looking back at Luanne. I avoid the mirror and jump straight into the shower, attacking my hair with a heavy dose of shampoo. As I lather, rinse, and repeat, I scold myself for getting into this state. I’m not the one that was sexing-up the downstairs neighbor. I should be out celebrating my new-found freedom, not silently reciting the dialogue from romantic comedies under my breath.
Once properly cleaned, coiffed, and dressed in the little black number Luanne laid out for me, I head back into the living room and catch Luanne using her hands to push her breasts into a more top-shelf position. She’s wearing a tight fitting corset style dress and hot-pink stiletto shoes. Oh no, what have I agreed to?
“There you are!” she exclaims. “Now, don’t you look just as pretty as ever? How do you feel?”
“I feel better. Thanks for the push, I needed it. And I’m sorry about eating all of the junk food,” I say, sheepish. “I promise I’ll buy some fruit and vegetables at the store tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about it. I lost three pounds this week. I know they say you shouldn’t starve yourself but I’ll tell you, it works like a charm for weight loss.” Luanne grabs her little rhinestone purse from the table and hands me the keys to her truck. “Now you’ll have to drive because I can’t sit upright in this dress. It’s made for more of a lying down position,” she says, winking at me.
As we head out of town and onto the freeway leading to the city, Luanne fills me in on the night’s planned festivities. “It’s a country western bar called Whiskey Tango. Thursday is lady’s night and you know what that means. Two-dollar margaritas!” she squeals.
“Isn’t Whiskey Tango slang for white trash?” I ask, watching from the corner of my eye as Luanne applies another layer of lip gloss.
“Yeah, I think so but that’s fine by me. Just means the men there’ll