“Nothing.”
“You’re not eating. You always eat stuff from the bakery,” Marj persisted.
“I’m just not hungry.”
“Are you in love? Is it the Tinder guy? I thought you were kind of rude to him when I brought him here but maybe he had the balls to stick it out.”
“I’m not seeing Greg. I saw him one more time. That was it.”
“So Tinder boy broke your heart, I see how it is!” Marj teased.
“Stop. Just stop,” Britt said dully, not even mustering indignation.
“Wow, I guess he did a number on you pretty fast, then. Unless this is still about Kevin. Do not tell me you’re moping about that fucker.”
“I’m not moping about Kevin.”
“Good. But you acknowledge that you’re moping,” Marj said, slurping on her frappe.
“No, I categorically deny any mope-age. It’s just been a long week with all those insurance forms. There are people who STILL have not turned them in.” She tried to complain energetically.
“You need a drink.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re depressed and boring. You’re talking about paperwork. Work is over. We’re not in the office. Talk about your hair or the book you’re reading or what happened on Scandal. Do not talk about paperwork.”
“I DVR’d Scandal. I fell asleep before it came on.”
“You fell asleep? That early? Oh, honey, you are depressed. We’ve gotta get you out there.”
“No. No more Tinder. No more bars. No more set ups. I’m taking time off from guys. I’m just going to focus on myself, and my interests.”
“Right. Your interests. Like falling asleep at eight o’clock,” Marj snorted. “And, I’m betting, caramel corn and reality TV.”
“I didn’t watch TV last night.”
“Okay, you got online and read about how your headache may be a brain tumor.”
“I did not. I read a bunch of news articles.”
“News as in the Kardashians?”
“They may have been in some of the headlines I clicked. Nothing wrong with pop culture. Human interest...”
“You’re not thinking about plastic surgery are you?”
“No, why? Should I?” Britt snarked.
“No, not at all. I just thought that all that exposure to Photoshopped images might make you feel insecure.”
“It’s my boobs, isn’t it? They’re too small.”
“They’re fine. They’re proportional with the rest of your body. You’d look silly with huge boobs.”
“Maybe to you I would. But to men, I’d look like someone they wanted to know better.”
“Nail, not know better. There’s a difference.”