Act Yo’ Age, Not Yo’ Shoe Size

Sing it, Prince.  Sing it.

(Sorry to get a little preachy today, but somebody has done lit the string on my Tampax and Imma ’bout to get a witness up in here!  Don’t worry, this post is still snarky… so somebody hold my heels while I climb up on this here soapbox.)

When I graduated from high school, they gave us all our regular diplomas as well as a little wallet-sized, laminated version.  Now, I don’t know if all schools do this, and at the time, I thought it was pretty useless — I mean, how often do you ever need to prove you’re a high school graduate on a moment’s notice?  But now, I am double the age I was when I graduated from high school… and I’m thinking of getting that damn thing put on a t-shirt.

That way, when people who are far, far old enough to know better try to involve me in their infantile backbiting and bickering, I can just point at the shirt and say, “Sorry, perhaps you didn’t notice I’m not a 15-year-old girl.”  The point of all of us being such dicks to each other in high school was that we would GROW OUT OF IT, but it seems like a lot of people were absent that day.

For me, high school was hell.  I was a smart, nerdy, scrawny kid who read too much and got all the jokes on “The Young Ones.”  I was never going to be popular and my few forays into “Mean Girls” territory made me feel so bad about myself that I Just. Stopped. Doing it (shocking, right?).  Don’t get me wrong, I WILL get all up in your face like a surprise guest on the “Jerry Springer Show” if you piss me off — but the point is, it will be in your face, as in “TO your face.”  As in, NOT BEHIND YOUR BACK.

Someone much smarter than I once said, ” Opinions are like assholes.  Everybody has one, and most of them are full of shit.”  I don’t mean to tell you not to have an opinion, and I will fight to the death for your right to express it… just own it.  Say what you think up-front and in-person, I ain’t mad atcha.  But sneak around talking trash behind somebody’s back because you’re too fucking cowardly to confront them?  Fuck you, read my shirt.  I can’t be doing this two-faced BS — I’ve only got enough eyeshadow for one.

End of Rant

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