Even though another birthday is nearing, you do not have my permission to start DROOPING.
Butt – quit jiggling so much when I walk. Remember the days when you used to calmly stay in place? Nice and firm and tight? Let’s give that a shot again.
Thighs – quit competing over which one of you can be bigger. Try competing over who can be smaller. Winner gets a prize.
Boobs – suck it up and DEAL. You should be perky and cute… and not pointing toward the floor.
Face – where the hell did all these lines come from? Don’t give me some song and dance about too much sun and booze and not enough sleep – I don’t believe all that crap and neither should you.
So, come on – let’s rally. Either that, or get better and walking your fat old ass into a bar so I can DRINK myself young.
You (and Me)
Liar! That is what you are. You lied to me in the beginning, middle and end. You lied about your past, you lied about stupid, insignificant details and you even lied about your lies. I am SO glad to be done and over with you because that means I am done LYING to myself about all the lies you told me. It is so much better to be without you than to be in a relationship devoid of any real trust. Bottom line: You lied to me, I knew you were lying and called you on it and THEN, you made me feel guilty for not BELIEVING in you. Wow, I was stupid. Honest but so stupid. But now I am free of all your bulls*$t. What a relief….I can breathe again!
You’re a tool if ever I’ve seen one. Be yourself, Man! I’m sure some nice gal will come along who will appreciate you for what you are, but stop trying to mold yourself to please others. That’s one of the many reasons I couldn’t stand to be with you any longer. You try too hard! People hate that!
And, don’t say your penis is bigger than it is…I have eyes, and it’s average at best. It won’t magically get bigger if you say it’s bigger. That’s just stupid, you big fat tool.
And another thing. When someone says, “Don’t come to my mom’s funeral,” that’s exactly what they mean. DON’T SHOW UP. But, ya did. (tool)
I do feel a little bit sorry for you, though. You were in love with me, and it was terribly sad for you when I broke it off, and that sucks. But to not get over it and at least stay in touch on Facebook? That’s a little childish, don’t ya think? Oh, wait, that’s right…your girlfriend “won’t allow it.”
I rest my case.
Your husband had an affair w/ me. There. I said it. I hope you’ve realized by now that you deserve better. You’re lucky in one way only if you’re still with him, and that is his one redeeming quality…his large penis. Honestly, that’s why I stayed so long. He’s not good looking. He’s super cynical. His teeth are bad and he has a big nose and an obnoxious laugh. I’ll never know why I stayed with him for so long, except I guess I can say he saved me for finally finding MY mister right.
Why do you make everything so difficult to understand? Is it fun for you to make things so formal and vague? “To be or not to be?” Why don’t you just LET it BE and BE done with it? I understand that in your time you were a great playwright, but this is not your time anymore so why are you still around?
Why do all of your characters look at each other ONCE and then go off to get married, have 50 kids, and then die a painful death? Why couldn’t there at least have been a few dates?
AND ANOTHER THING…WHY do all of your plays end so tragically? WHAT could possibly be wrong with a happy ending? WHY couldn’t Juliet have woken up sooner? Why was Romeo so lovesick after a few days of knowing her? WHY THE HELL DID THEY KILL THEMSELVES?!?!?
To all my dear boys: I love you all so much more than I think I’ll ever be able to articulate. You are all so beautiful in so many different and remarkable ways. Whenever I talk to any of you, I invariably smile and fall a little more in love with you…your sarcasm, your light, your slight-but-endearing twist of insanity. I die a little inside when you tell me your experiences of hate and violence, but feel such an intense rush of love for the strength and grace that you bring with you out of all those trials that I often have to remind myself to breathe again afterwards. I hate when you can’t be yourselves, but I love that you share yourselves and your stories with me, and I feel so privileged to be your confidante, sister, and occasional hetero-true love.