Dear Editors of Cosmo,
Go fuck yourselves. Stop telling me how to be prettier, thinner, look better in a bikini, look better naked, please my man, have hot hook-ups with my best friend's boyfriend, lie and get away with it..well you know what I'm saying.
Fuck you and your proverbial hatchet to my self-esteem. Fuck you and your 18-gauge shotgun to my disintegrating-by-the-millisecond body image. Fuck you and your overdose pills of skinny and pretty to my old and still impressionable mind. Fuck you for making me ashamed that I am me and not ten years younger or 2 feet taller.
Fuck you to my husband, who ordered me the magazine "for the articles". Yep. The articles that tell me how to be prettier, thinner, look better in a bikini, look better naked, please my man..because that's what it's all about isn't it? Who's the weaker sex?
Last but not least, fuck me. Fuck me for losing sight of myself. Fuck me for making a FrankenMess out of the body God gave me. Fuck me for being so weak-minded and unassurred that I allowed this transition in the first place.
Yeah. Fuck me.