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letters to inanimate objects, part 3

letters to inanimate objects, part 3

Dear Hormones:

This letter is to inform you that you have ten (10) days from the date of this notice to pack up your belongings and get out of my body. A warrant of eviction has been served and unless you can show just cause as to why you should be allowed to remain, you may commence with the leaving.

I have put up with your nonense for way too long. The way you control my emotions is no longer going to be tolerated. I will no longer allow you to cause me to cry over Kleenex commercials or weep like a baby when someone makes an offhand comment about the way my hair looks today. One minute, you want me to be full of simmering anger. The next minute, you expect me to turn around and hug everyone in sight. I just can't keep up anymore.

It's not just my emotions. It's my entire life. It is your fault I spent two hours at work yesterday organizing my desk drawer. It is your fault I put my canned goods in alphabetical order. It is your fault that I watched an episode of 7th Heaven.

Let's talk physical factors, ok? I'm 39 years old. I do not need to have zits appearing on my face monthly. I certainly do not need water retention. My hair? My god, what have you done to my hair? Every 28 days it turns into a rat's nest of horror. And the food. Do you not have any sense of decency or fair play? Must you further contribute to my already deflating ego by inflicting a constant desire for chocolate upon my senses? Salt, ice cream, cake, candy....can't you have me crave grapefruit instead?

It's just gotten to the point where I feel you have outlived your usefulness. I can't take it anymore. We had some great moments together (remember that time I listened to that Stabbing Westward song on repeat for 2 straight days?), but it's run it's course. You have become a burden and a major source of annoyance.

So if you would kindly take your things and go, we can part ways with a certain sense of comradery. If you stay any longer, I will be forced to take drastic measure to rid myself of you.

Thank you for your service the past 39 years. Your certificate of appreciation is in the mail.


That goes for me too!

Amen Sister! I've had mine for 40 years and I am sure they are just as tired of me as I am of them - so hie off.

Sing it, girlfriend. Those damn things have outlived their usefulness.

Remember the bling bling man. See what happens when you no longer have your hormones?

I'm copying that and mailing it to my hormones today. That is, if I'm not too busy stalking the chocolate bars in the vending machine.

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