Listen, scary facial lady with undefined Eastern European accent, stop yelling at me for having pimples. It’s not my fault, okay? No, I don’t always wash my face after I stumble home drunk, and yes, I buy cheap shit from Duane Reade, but I’m paying you $200, so just lay off. If I wanted all this emotional abuse and disapproval, I’d call my mother. God, it all just makes me want to please you even more.
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