Be honest. Sometimes you’re a hater and if life is sucking like shit going down the toilet, the last thing you wanna hear is how great somebody else’s life is. Like yeah, you may be happy for them deep down but you need that special moment to wallow in your shit and wish folk would leave you the hell alone. Actually, you think it’s downright selfish of them to be bragging about their great little life when they’re fully aware of your circumstances. Furthermore, when you’re all done with your drama, you’re real good about handing down all kindsa advice and shit, even boasting about how you dealt with your little problem but when you ain’t all into yourself, you know exactly when to shut up on account of that somebody you’re talking to giving you that look that’s all too familiar.
Let’s be real. You’d really like to believe everybody’s the same ’cause that’s kinda the “right” way to feel. It sounds great in theory. Truth is, you know you’re better than some folks out here and will privately admit it to yourself. When you see folk on the news doing dumb shit and know that you don’t have a police record, walking around calling everybody ‘buddy’ whether they like your ass or not, and only steal small dollar items from the office you ain’t been caught for, you have every right to feel on top of the world. You should. Like, how hard is it to not rob somebody and not end up in jail to become somebody’s bitch, right? Until they get their shit together and minimize the toxicity in their lives to your level, you can ride every high horse out there. Scoot up ’cause I’m riding right along with you, okay?
Admit it. You ain’t gonna ever have that dream figure you envision in your mind. Your relationship with food is too akin to a man with a sex addiction who cheats on his wife and there’s no difference between what he’s doing and you hoarding Mini Reeses in your pocketbook, thinking nobody knows. Your brain is wired to have the kind of relationship with food that keeps you thinking about it even when you’re not hungry. Just like a man who loves sex, you love food just as much. Matter of fact, you’re the type to go to a new restaurant and tell all of your family and friends about it, the same way you would tell them about a new boyfriend you’re excited about. In actuality, food is like an orgasmic experience for you and you share those experiences best with folk whose passion for it matches your own.
Just say it. Why you bought that treadmill now decorating some corner in your house, you just can’t put your finger on. Matter of fact, you never could stand getting up there ’cause it bores the hell outta you. It only ended up in your house ’cause everybody else was getting one and you happened to be up at 2 in the a.m., going to the fridge for a snack and thought you’d catch a little something on TV, which ended up being an infomercial. Truth of the matter is, you resent that big contraption taking up the space you never used anyhow and wanna sell it but everybody’s got one. You’d really prefer some scenery with your walk, so after two weeks of being pumped up to going a couple of miles in the neighborhood, you pretty much develop a fuck-exercise attitude ’cause something came up one day and you just ain’t got time for that kinda ripping and running when there are so many other things going on in your life. And too, with the new year coming in, you wanna simplify your life even more than this year, so you stop telling yourself how you’re gonna get your physique in shape and eliminating exercise altogether are two ways of accomplishing the simplicity you desire.
Tell the truth. There really are some children you just don’t like. No matter that you’ve prayed about it, you don’t like them. They get on your last nerve and you really ain’t got a lot of good feelings toward their parents either. You often think how much better you and your kids are and if you’re a woman, will even find little sneaky ways of bringing up to your husband the fact that his brother, wife and kids suck. That you just don’t understand them at all in a sweet-sounding tone but feeling all haughty and bitchy on the inside.
Don’t lie. You really would accept an indecent proposal like the movie Demi was in, where she slept with that fine ass Robert Redford for one million smackeroos, if one of your favorite sexy celebs confronted you with one. To hell with what the Significant Other thinks, he/she needs to get with the damn program. Matter fact, your mind trails along the road of what it may be like to have somebody a little different anyway and think shit, half a million wouldn’t be a bad proposition either.
Go ahead. Set the truth free.