Dear Universe,

Please stop sending people into my life to tell me how tired I look.  I freakin’ know already.



In the past week I have had three different people, on THREE DIFFERENT DAYS, tell me how exhausted I look.  WTF?! Besides the fact that no one ever wants people to tell them that they resemble a haggard old bag, what purpose exactly did the comments serve?  If I had been complaining about how tired I’ve been, then I would concur that I opened myself up to the comment. It is just as bad as asking me when my baby is due. IT IS NOT A BABY. IT IS FAT, OKAY?

But I didn’t invite comments. All I did ON ALL THREE OCCASIONS was walk into a room.  Suddenly I sucked all the energy and livelihood from the area and compelled the three ladies to comment on my apparent lack of loveliness.


The crappy thing about this is that I haven’t been feeling all that tired or uninspired. No more than usual, anyway.


I need some Retinol! I need some antioxidants! Bring me my BOTOX!  (No really. Bring it to me . I’m totally open to it. Perhaps I should have a dermatologist sponsor my blog and also, of course, my face? I could be a social experiment of sorts.)

The lesson here?  Um, no clue.  Except to compel you to NOT COMMENT ON A LADY’S EXHAUSTION UNTIL SHE TELLS YOU TOO.

Got that, Mr. Universe?