My scale is the spawn of Satan. Today it flashed a number up at me like a neon sign reading, “YOU ARE A FAT ASS!” I almost cried, but I decided, instead, to rip the batteries out…take that you piece of shit self-esteem wrecker!
To top it off, my grandmother thinks she is helping matters by watching every move I make and yelling over to me every five minutes, “Niki, what are you eating? You’re not going to get rid of that fat ass by eating all that shit!” Can it, Grams. I must have this Krackel…it is nourishing my tortured soul right now. I could point out that she’s no supermodel, but somewhere along the line, my parents instilled some respect-for-your-elders bullshit in me, and I can’t bring myself to do it.
What makes people think they have the right to point out the flaws in others without taking a good look at themselves? This goes way beyond just physical appearance. I know people who pride themselves on judging other people’s family lives, love lives, careers, friendships–without really looking in the mirror. All I have to say is mind your own business, people! Nobody is perfect, and if you weren’t so busy prying into other people’s downfalls, you would see that you have some major bumps in your road…close down that gossip track for construction!
Sorry…I’m stepping down from the pulpit. I’m just saying that I’m sick of being told to get a real job, get a boyfriend, get pregnant, get skinny. I will be single, fat and poor just to spite you. I will. I really will.
By the way…if this fax machine rings one more time, I will kill it.