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by Carrie

Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 122
I’m quite used to being inspected and I expect it even when visiting a doctor, male or female. Being inspected is part of the routine of a beautiful girl. You either learn how to handle it or you go to pieces and join some fringe radical group and be a pain in the ass.

He said, “Make your self comfortable. I want you to feel relaxed. As relaxed as someone about to take a long nap. The first thing to do when you have a problem is relax. Feel free to lie back, or tuck your legs up under you, or take your jacket off, or your shoes. Make believe you’re at home. Make this your home.”

The idea of relaxing like I was at home sounded like a good idea, but I needed more encouragement from myself. So, I slipped off one heel. He nodded some approval. I slipped off the other. He waited. He knew I wasn’t completely relaxed. He knew I knew that as well.

I took off my suit coat, tucked up my good long legs on that big long couch, shook my hair out and leaned my head on one hand and looked about the room as if I were all alone at home daydreaming. I had a feeling this might not be as bad as I had thought.

“Do you always relax at home in your business suit or do you change into something else.” I said, “I generally change or maybe, you know….” He waited then asked, “What?” I felt embarrassed. He said, “To sleep you need to relax.” I understood that. He said, “You generally change, then what? Do whatever it is that you need to do to relax.”

“But you’re here.” He said, “No, I’m not here. As long as you think I’m here you won’t relax.” “How do I do that with you here?” He said, “Like an actor makes believe on camera or on stage. Do not think about me. Think about anything, but not me.”

It wasn’t easy, but he reminded me, “We have another fifty minutes. If you can’t relax completely now, we’ll continue in the next session.” I hadn’t even agreed to a next session. “And the next until you can just lie there as if you’re empty as a vessel. You need to empty yourself of anxiety.”

He looked at me and waited, “If you worry about me then all you’re doing is wasting your and my time.” I thought about what I did when I got home from work, or what I used to do. I reached down to the side of my skirt and held the little metal zipper and nervously played with it.

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