Double Threats Forever by Julie Prestsater

four of us have appointments all at the same time, starting with the dreaded waxing. Andi and I want to skip this part, but Keesha and Steph insist. Steph even tells Andi she has thicker eyes brows than Joe Jonas. So nice. Andi is horrified and agrees to pain. Getting my brow and lip done is one thing, but these girls will never convince me to get my vajayjay done. That’s sacred land. I’d rather bust a Scary Movie than let someone inspect me close enough to spread hot wax down there and rip out any fuzz.
    Andi and Keesh go in to two separate waxing rooms. When they come out, Andi’s eyes are wet but my other friend waves me out of my seat with a smile on her face like she didn’t just have her facial hair torn from its follicles.
    “You guys like great. No red at all,” Steph tells them as she takes the walk to hell.
    “They’re awesome here. Whatever they used, it felt like heaven. Smelled good too.” Keesh is still smiling.
    “Great. There’ll be no evidence of torture in our pictures.”
    “Shut up, Meggie. And get your ass in the room,” Keesh scolds me.
    I look over at my little friend who gives me a sympathetic look.
    When we’re done being plucked like Anne Hathaway in the princess movie, we move on to our next station. Mani pedis. Thank you. There’s something amazing about the moisturizing massage at the end of a pedicure that leaves me feeling soothed and hurt at the same time. I love it. Especially in this salon where the latest love songs sing in my ears and we sip on champagne glasses full of apple cider that fizzes, tickling my nose.
    “Dude, this is the life,” Andi says, relaxing against the throw pillows that surround us as four women work on our toes.
    Our nails are finished, having been taken care of by two other women. A whole team of estheticians has taken a turn at each one of us. It kind of makes me feel like a spoiled brat that we can do all this. But hey, it’s our last year. And we sure as hell have never done anything like this before.
    “Yeah, but I’m starting to think we should’ve saved this for prom. How can we top all this?” Steph says. She must be thinking the same thing.
    “Just enjoy it, girls,” one of the ladies says, never taking her eyes off Keesh’s toes.
    “She’s right,” I say. “To the queen.” I raise my glass into the air, then reach over to clink it with my friends’.
    By the time we leave the salon, the day of pampering was just that. A whole day. A total of six hours of poking, pulling, clipping, and tearing. And let’s not forget lungs full of inhaled hair spray.
    We look good though. Damn good.
     
    “Every year, you just look more and more beautiful, honey,” my dad says. “You’ve become such a stunning young woman. Where did my baby go? The one with the chubby cheeks and little pot belly?”
    “Wow, Dad. That started off so good and went downhill fast.”
    He hangs an arm over my shoulder, and brings me in for a squeeze and a kiss to my temple. “It wasn’t an insult. I loved you just as much then as I do now. I just wish you still looked like my little girl. I’m not ready to be the old man of a high school senior. I think you should go back to kinder. Or at least fourth grade.”
    I rest my head against his chest. “Sorry. I’m all grown up. There’s no turning back. But I’m still your little girl.”
    “Thanks, honey.” He steps away from me and holds up his camera.
    “That was beautiful,” Mom says, wiping a tear from her eye. “I just love you guys.”
    My dad shakes his head with a chuckle. “Oh stop. Just get over here and take a picture with your daughter.” He counts to three and a flash goes off. “Only now, you look more like sisters.”
    My mom wiggles her brows. “Ooo, I’ll take it.” She saunters over to my dad with puckered lips and slides her hands around his waist.
    “Gross.”
    “Hey, Meg.” Dad turns away from my mother. Whew. “I forgot something.”
    When he turns back around, I notice