My dear one,
You? Perplex me. Truly.
See, I have what the doctors call the "low self esteem". And by doctors I mean "therapists". And by "low self esteem" I mean "none". So I'm all Girl Powerish and whatnot when it comes to people being proud of themselves and their accomplishments. I think it's super swell, I really do, and I frequently hope some of that jazz will rub off on me.
You, however, have the exact opposite problem. You, my love, are SO very filled with esteem for yourself that it's impossible to convince you otherwise.
It sounds like a terrific problem to have, but honestly? I'm pretty sure it's inhibiting you in every single aspect of your life right now.
You are beautiful. You are not the most beautiful person on the planet. You are talented. You are not the most talented person on the planet. Not every guy you meet wants to sleep with you. Okay, probably most do, but it's because they are guys and not because they are enchanted by you. You know how sometimes people say, "You need to dial it back a notch?" Sweetheart. You need to dial it back like fifty notches. For real.
It's good to be proud of yourself, but stay humble. Reality isn't always as pretty as you might think your prospects are.
Dear My Dog,
Okay butthole. Every single time it rains you and I have this problem.
You: WHINE, WHINE, WHINE, WHINE.
Me: Ginger. You don't want to go outside. You don't like going outside when it's raining.
You: WHINE! WHINE! WHINE! WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!
Me: Ginger. You hate the rain. You will be mad. You won't like it. You will want to come inside in two seconds.
You: *running gleefully for the door where you stand. And whine*
Me: Okay, FINE. WHATEVER. *opens the door*
Two seconds later.
You, outside in the pouring rain: WHINE! WHINE! WHINE!
Me: WHAT DID I SAY!?!?!
You: *saddest face ever of all time*
Me: Okay, fine.
You: *bounding in the house getting your wet, nasty paws all over everything*
Me: WHINE! WHINE! WHINE!
Can't you just remember you hate the rain? Or at least take my word for it?
Thank you for being sane, kind and decent this morning. You have no idea how rare that is.
Dear fabric store,
Sorry. Pinterest tricks me into trying things that I actually shouldn't try.
Love you anyway,
Dear person I know,
Do you ever, ever, EVER shut up? If you were interesting it MIGHT be tolerable, but all you ever freaking talk about is stupid crap that no one cares about. You know that look that people get on their faces when you're talking? The one where they look akin to trapped rats in a cage? It's because they don't want to hear what you have to say.
NO. ONE. CARES.
Dear anyone who might send me an email,
Please don't assume you know my political, religious, or social preferences. You might. You might not. Do you really want to risk offending me and the two hundred other people you forwarded the email to? I hope not.
Love and hugs,
My Emma and your Ginger may indeed be long, lost kindred souls. WHINE.
I have that exact same conversation with my dog every time it rains as well!
You crack me up.
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