Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone

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Open letter to people unlikely to respond

Dear Haughty Blond Walking Past Me At The End of My Walk This Morning:

I'm so happy that you are in your black Spanx and bra top and Gucci (if I looked more closely, would I see they were knock-offs?) sunglasses, those big ol' Paris Hilton types. Your breasts were amazingly high, whoever did them?

My favorite thing ever is when people look me up and down and cock their eyebrow as they pass me. I LOVE IT. And I also love how easy your life is, that all you have to worry about is what's reflecting in the mirror. And the best thing about putting all of your "investment" into your looks is that it pays off for YEARS. Especially when you're 80 and all of you is hanging down to your knees, except your lucious breasts, which will still be sitting on your clavicle.

Also, lighten the fuck up. I like mouthing along to my mp3 player. Be glad I didn't stick my foot out and trip you. And finally, I bet I could beat you in a foot race. Living on celery and water and walking for 15 minutes isn't the definition of health.

Stronger, beefier, and happier with my body.

Dear Hot Nubian Hotness On The Riding Lawn Mower Down The Block From My House:

First, I want you to know how good looking you were. In case you didn't know. And if I was staring a bit, it's because it was a pleasant surprise. That's all. Ahem.

Second, you have no idea how happy it made me to a) not have someone look at me weird because I'm mouthing along to my mp3 player (seriously, people. WTF? ENJOY LIFE.) and b) that you KNEW THE SONG I WAS LISTENING TO. You rule. I'm putting you here last so that the image of the bitch with the dirty looks (probably because she's hungry. God bless black men and Latinos for loving women with curves. No, seriously.) is trumped by your awesomeness.

In conclusion: if you're a fighter, writer, biter, flame igniter, crowd exciter, or you wanna just get high, then just say it. But then if you're a liar, liar, pants on fire, wolf cry, agent wetter, whine, I'mma know it when I play it.

It's bigger than hip-hop/hip-hop,
The sweaty chick that will be thinking of you for the next few hours

Dear La Madeline French Bakery and Cafe:

I will not be seeing you today. I saw you yesterday, had a delicious Croque Monsieur, but as much as I want one today, I can't. We... have to end this sneaking around. It's not because of the Bitchy Blonde, and I'm offended you'd even say that. We...

Look. It's not you, don't ever let me hear that's what you're thinking! It's me. I know, it's cliche, but it's true. I've changed. It's vegetables. Fruits. Whole grains. They... they do the things I want. I know you said you'd try, but we both know health isn't something you're comfortable with. Comfort foods, high fat, that's what you like, and I get it.

I just need something...more. One day you'll look back on me eating your 1000 calorie tomato bisque with fondness, I will too. But this new recipe I have that has more licopene and less fat and calories? It's what I'm needing now. You'll forget me. One day.

And hey, if I can distract my new soup, I may sneak in for a raspberry chocolate croissant on occasion.

Too soon?
Slimmer hips and thighs
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