1. There seems to be one lone concrete pillar not connected to any piece of road over near the new Briley Parkway exit onto I40.
2. My parents both need constant reassurance that I am not a lesbian. They worry because I seem to be alone and they worry that I have found someone and am not telling them.
3. However, even though I am secretly marvelous enough to have a lesbian lover and important enough to her that she would put up with being forced to disappear whenever my parents came to town, I am too fat and ugly to ever get a man.
(As you might imagine, it does a number on a girl to try to follow the logical acrobats necessary to make sense of this, to try to figure out how that all fits together. Is it worth the effort to become beautiful so that I can take scores of male lovers they won’t approve of or should I figure out how to act on impulses I don’t have so that I can remain myself and take scores of female lovers they won’t approve of?)
4. Other girls they know, just like me–fat, alone, etc.–are really fucked up and so I might be as well.
Ah, y’all, it should make me mad, usually, this shit makes me mad, but I’m just tired.
Perhaps these are the callouses Short & Fat speaks of, the parts of your heart that get thick in response to constant bruising.
Ha, I only wish I had more unique issues.
Good night, all.