Fuck me, I’m famous!

During the wedding planning process, I made a lot of online enemies as well as a few online friends. I’m not a horrible person or anything, but I definitely use the online world as an outlet to say whatever the fuck I want. It’s not my fake persona per se, it’s just the one with no filter. Obviously, I don’t say the things I say online in the real world. I’d have no job, no friends and no husband if I did!

Anyway, one of my online friends told me about a secret website that acts as an offshoot for one of the wedding planning sites I used to frequent. It’s a place other women go to bitch about other women. I ain’t even against this, but really… Who has the time do make thread upon thread about another person? As it turns out, I’m one of the targets. There is a thread that has over 1000 responses and 45 pages devoted to talking about me, me and me.

As sick as this sounds, I’m beyond flattered. I mean, over 50 women are constantly thinking about me. Also, it’s not like they’re saying anything I’m not aware of or anything that bothers me. I don’t like fat people and I think women who got pregnant young are fucking idiots. Those aren’t exactly nice things to think about other people, but the only people bothered by my thinking are the fatties and bad moms. Ha!

What I found to be the most flattering was how they “cut” up my appearance. They went on to say I’m not as pretty as I think I am, or they see a little bit of arm fat here or there. I kind of felt like a celebrity. You know the ones that they catch at a bad angle and post in a tabloid? These bitches went as far as to upload pictures of me, find my Facebook and scour through threads I wrote over a year ago, picking apart every little thing I said.

I was beginning to think I was turning into a basic bitch. One that wasn’t worth hating. This thread has completely rejuvenated me! If I think about the last time I hated on someone that much it brings me back to my teenage years. Remember Viviana V.? I hated that girl for the simple reason she was better than me. At everything. After my obsession with her ended, I simply decided I want to be the person envied, not the one envying so I can recognize what they’re doing all too well. At least I can admit it, however.

I intend to print out all of those pages and reflect on them in years to come. My feelings weren’t hurt. They found the silliest things to talk about and they actually went as far as to post pictures of my wedding.


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