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37-Uncommonly Common

PIPPA

If I’d known what “the usual” entailed, I would have staked myself to a fire ant bed. I was poked, prodded, pulled, waxed, shaved, plucked and what felt like—shorn.

After the three-hour process, I’m standing in the lobby at five till seven wearing an electric-blue way-above-the-knee dres...

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