1
Karen
"Hey, all you Pretty Pollys out there, welcome to the first episode of the Wicked Women podcast for the new year. I'm Karen Q, and I'm here with my co-host—"
"Mistress H."
"—to discuss all things feminist, feminine, and fine as fuck!"
I hit the play button on the sound desk, nodding in time to the intro music. On the other end of the screen, my co-host, Hannah Sharp, tilted her head to the side, her lips moving as she counted down to the end of the tune. Unlike me, in my sloppy PJs and bed-hair, Hannah looked as neat as a pin, her white pantsuit perfectly pressed, her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders in perfectly positioned beach curls.
It's nice that some things in life are predictable.
"Mistress H, tell me, how were your holidays? Did you conquer the dreaded Christmas family dinner?"
Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "No. Despite all efforts to be civil, dinner disintegrated into a melee of words between my father, his new girlfriend, and my aunt."
I winced. "Ouch. Was it entertaining, at least?"
"For the first two hours, then the cops arrived. After that, it was just me attempting to bail my aunt out of jail and dealing with paperwork for the next six hours."
I hit the sad sound button. "That sounds like the worst Christmas you've had since the one where someone ate your dessert."
"It was. At least this time, I got pudding."
We chatted about our holidays, filling our listeners in on what was happening in our lives before cutting to a commercial break.
"And we're back," I said into the microphone, repositioning my earphones. "It's time to introduce our guest for this week. She's our producer, a mom-to-be, a kickass boss lady, and one of the best friends I've ever had. Let's give it up for Christine!"
I hit the button to add cheers, grinning as I unmuted the screen.
"Chrissy-boo, how are you?" I asked, blowing her air kisses.
"Fat, fun, and fine as fuck." She laughed, holding her hand up to the screen for a high-five. I pretended to air-smack her palm, laughing at Hannah's eye roll.
"May I remind you that you're pregnant?" Hannah asked with a flick of her hair. "Fat is not a descriptor I'd use for the beauty of your body right now."
"Mistress, I love you, but you are dead wrong." Christine leaned back, patting her eight-month-pregnant belly. "I am so done with being pregnant. It feels as if my ankles are about to explode. If I don't get some foot massages up in here, I'm worried I may never walk again."
"I'd just like to remind you of something you said at the start of this single mom journey. What was it? Oh, that's right." I grinned, making my voice wispy and overly high-pitched. "Pregnancy is a gift, and I can't wait to experience it all. And best of all, I don't have to share it with anyone else."
Chrissy groaned. "I hate that you remember that."
"Babe, I remember everything."
We all cackled before Hannah sobered, lifting her clipboard to check the run schedule.
"Chrissy, your email was incredibly cryptic. All it says is that you want to talk to us about resolutions."
"Uh-huh." She leaned forward, grinning into the computer screen. "I've decided it's time to shake up this little podcast. You ladies have had enough of being safe at home hiding behind your microphones. I've decided it's time to get you out from behind the desk and into the big bad world."
I blinked. "Huh?"
Hannah, always more articulate than me, clarified, "What are you asking us to do?"
Christine rubbed her hands together. "I've signed you both up for a few new year's resolutions."
"What?"
