So, I must confess, I have a wee problem with standing up for myself. Like, there were these girls in middle school that used to punch me in the back when I was getting stuff out of my locker, and I wouldn’t ever tell on them. Still never have.

I remember them vividly, though, and if I ever get the chance, I have a glorious speech all ready for them. Ha.

At any rate, there is a new person in my life who has brought new meaning to the term “frenemy.” This person is cruel and mean, while also being a very giving and thoughtful person. I don’t get it. One minute, she’s saying things that honestly sound slightly Hitler-esque, and the next, she’s making me soup.

So confusing.

So I’m pretty scared of her, because I don’t want to get on her bad side. Therefore, I am venting here because yesterday she really got me.

She has made jokes about people thinking I look pregnant and about how I’m “definitely not beautiful, but cute!” before, and it’s pretty much as though she doesn’t realize how a stick-thin, former model who sits on her butt and eats cookies all day and never exercises could seem a little condescending when making these comments to a hefty, slightly mannish-looking woman who has been teased about weight and largeness her whole life. And has been a member of a society that tells her she doesn’t fit, and sends her to the back of the store to buy clothes at twice the cost. And has been on every diet known to man, faithfully, and exercises regularly and hasn’t had a cookie in ages, and yet the scale doesn’t budge.

Ugh. The struggle is real up in my neighborhood.

So yes, I’m not small and feminine and all of that. And I’m trying to accept it, because I don’t think bone and muscle reduction is a thing, and also just wait until that osteoporosis kicks in, lady. At any rate, she has had a hard life so I keep trying to remember that “hurt people hurt people.” I know she does it because she needs to do that to feel better, and that’s really sad.

But.

Yesterday when she walked in and stood there looking at me with her mouth hanging open, and I am just sitting there with my newly back to pixie hair, feeling like crap because, well, morning, but at least I was ecstatic with my hair. It just looks like what I feel like I look like. I can’t explain it any better than that. So I say, “Yep! I cut it off! Yay!”

And she says, with a look that makes her feelings completely known (sort of the face you’d make if someone took a dump on your desk), “Ugh. You sure did.”

And that was it.

I know it’s not a big deal, and I was hoping that if I let it go, I wouldn’t feel hurt about it, but I do. I don’t need her to like the way I look, but I sure wish she’d keep her opinions to herself. It’s not like I ask what she thinks.

And now I’ve gotten it out, and I can go on. Or maybe I’ll actually take a dump on her desk. We’ll see what the day brings...

By the way, EVERYONE is beautiful to someone. Be kind today. Feelings matter, guys.