So today
They handed me a huge laundry list of things I am doing wrong at work, including (but not limited to): having large breasts and wearing whorish perfume. I felt shitty about this for a few hours until I realized I can keep this list and sue someone if I really grow some balls. That’s my problem. I talk like I’m tough shit because I drink so much, but in reality, I still suffer from “hideous fat girl” syndrome.
While I’m not entirely hideous nor tremendously fat anymore, I have this issue where I let people walk all over me because, well, I’m just not good enough for you and clearly, I need to be punished.
Men I adore express actual interest in me and what do I do? I create my own list of reasons I am a pathetic loser and, in the spirit of total masochism, actually read it to them. What the fuck is that? “Um, sorry, don’t like me because I have razor burn on the back of my left knee and I voted for Nader in 2000. My iPod is broken and I subscribe to magazines and forget to pay for them. Having no dad makes me really susceptible to male bullshit and having a crazy mother makes me guarded and paranoid. You really don’t have to like me. You can do so much better.”
Here’s some Susan Lucci shit: learning to accept affection is fucking terrifying. Not turning everything into a joke is insanely difficult.
Oh yeah, another item on the list basically reads, “She [that’s me] appeared unfriendly at first because she mentioned she was working on her second master’s degree. While that’s stopped, it’s still a concern.”
I know. Suddenly, this is a “you think you’re better than us?” situation and I had no idea it was even an issue. You didn’t go to college and that ain’t my fault. You have four kids in their teens which, and I’m not a scientist or anything, means that you have a wrinkly, loose, dried up vagina. Again, not my fault.
It’s funny, I didn’t think I was better than you until I just read that aloud. Aside from my young, child-free vagina, I have lots of redeeming qualities, one of which is the fact that I’m aces at this job. The kids love me and that’s what matters most. If communication is an issue, at the workplace, I am direct, articulate, and I keep my opinions about how people look to myself.
…….and of course I deserve love…and this bottle of Jim Beam…and “Posse on Broadway” by Sir Mix-A-Lot because it’s the fucking jam.
