Oh, cool, I knew something didn’t feel right — I’ve been a complete ass about taking my birth control and now my body’s like, “We menstruate, yeah? Wheeee, we menstruate!”
No, really. Being a woman is magical. 🙄
I find it rude that my body-image-issue days are so often accompanied by cravings for fried cheese.
“I am a giant, unlovable hambeast. Oh, look, pierogies!”
Yes, clearly, the way to get me back into your bed is to hit on me via my personal Facebook where MY DAD can witness your “game.”
Aren’t you proud, Daddy? He likes my rack! He called it “sexy” for you and all my former coworkers and college professors to see!
It’s perhaps egotistical of me to think that’s why he said it. But I can’t see any other reason to use “sexy” in a public forum, one in which you’ve seen me keep it clean for YEARS, and seen me interact with my family. Especially if that obviously wasn’t what I was going for; especially since the photo I’d posted didn’t show a damn thing for you to call sexy (I purposely cropped my cleavage because I’m a freak); and especially since WE BROKE UP. You don’t have “sexy” rights anymore — you don’t use that word with friends, and this is neither the time nor the place.