Beautifull of shit

I don’t think I ever roll my eyes harder than when a man on OkCupid comes at me with “Hello beautiful” (<– Lack of punctuation his, not mine.)

First, I HAVE a name. It’s in my profile. Twice.

Also, I’m 41, so please don’t make me quote Meghan Trainor: “Call me beautiful, so original, tellin’ me I’m not like other girls…”

I’m cute, dude. It’s OK, I know my lane. “Beautiful” seems to be some sort of résumé keyword men* say to average-looking chicks, assuming we all want to hear it and it’ll fast-track them into our draw’s.

BTW, it hadn’t occurred to me that “not like other girls” was a line until I heard this song. In hindsight, it makes sense—I am a special little lady snowflake…just like everybody else. My deep-seated desperation to feel unique is probably evident, so of course men would use it to infiltrate.

P.S. If I ever write a book, I’m calling it “Little Lady Snowflake.”

*SOME men. #NotAll. I know.

“Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.”

Weird, I just had a conversation with friends about 3 a.m. drunk texting, and now this song I’ve never heard before comes up on my Pandora playlist.

My ownership of “that bass” notwithstanding, I’m glad my adult life doesn’t often mimic Meghan Trainor songs.

Middle age love for Meghan Trainor

I’m almost 40, so obviously I was rockin’ out to “All About that Bass” in the car on the way into work this morning.

Singing along, I started wondering about this magical unicorn of a mother she had that told her “Don’t worry about your size.” According to my mother, the ONLY thing I had to worry about was my size. Oh, and using condoms. (Explains a lot, doesn’t it?)

But just in case you’d forgotten, every inch of you is perfect, from the bottom to the top. (Especially the men. Y’all have the best inches…)