Sex sells every product the ad manager tells me. But you already know that he says checking out my legs. I uncross them. Of course I do I tell him. He knows very well I’ve been in this ad game a while. What a dumb ass thing for him to say. I keep my eyes brightly wide and make sure my gums show each time I smile. Well good then he says. Then he says sex sells hemorrhoid cream. Hemorrhoid cream, yes, I can understand that I say. Ice cream too he says. Trying to bait me. I’m not a fish. Overall he’s pretty pathetic. Then again so is the ad game. So I guess that makes me pretty pathetic. All the garbage gets turned into pearls. Desirable. I can hardly wait to get home and take a good dump. See, I like my own toilet. What can I say? It’s my personal oddity. I am entitled. He’s staring at my breasts. I feel like saying could you sell these? They’re not twenty or thirty or even forty anymore. Genius could you sell these if you’re so damned talented?
Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty years published writer in all genres. Her current project is an Off-Broadway Play on the subject of art and life.
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