I hate to admit this, but life is life and so it goes. Yesterday, I went to the “spa” to have a consultation about having the sideburns that I started to sprout in my old age removed. I feel very vain for this, and only went because I have a gift certificate to use and under no other circumstances would I feel the need to have such a procedure done….unless I was seriously growing some man hair. So, I go up to the receptionist and state my name and the time of my appointment, but cannot bring myself to say, “I’m here to get the whiskers laser beamed off my face.” So the receptionist hunts my name down and says, “Okay, Fluffy will be right with you.” The lady beside me burst out laughing and looks at me. I smiled but refused to give in to the laughter, for obvious reasons, I have no business making fun of people’s names. Then a tinge of panic hits me, are we actually talking about a human named Fluffy? And is this “person” going to talk to me about unwanted hair? Well, her name was Fluffy and she was very normal, middle aged, tall, dark hair, no canine tendencies. I kept my mouth shut about her name, I figured she, like myself, has had plenty of inquiries as to why she was given a name that beckons to be taunted. Next time, I’ll make my appointment and ask to be de-fluffed by Fluffy.