Sometimes I sit down to write something and then remember I already wrote it. A few years ago. Which makes my morning easier, as I can just copy and paste and change a few words or numbers here and there. Different year, same damn problems. 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
3941 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 3941 years. Your certificate of appreciation is in the mail.
Obviously, I never followed through on my threat the last time, because I'm still having the same problems. I'm putting in orders right now that I come back in my next life as a guy. Or one of those animals with no reproductive organs.