Open Letter to That Woman We Love to Hate on Social Media

Hey Girlfriend,

Can we chat for a minute? We were friends in high school, so it makes total sense for us be connected on social media, but I’m feeling a little uncomfortable with some of the pictures you’re posting.

Firstly, I think it’s really weird you haven’t aged at all in twenty years. How is it you are just as stunning as I remember you in every single one of your photos? Your hair is always set perfectly, and it seems you have time to apply actual makeup – to your face – every day. 

I’m spending half my life, at this point, applying acne and wrinkle cream, and you’re off perfecting the art of liquid eyeliner application? That seems reasonable.

I know you’ve had a bunch of kids, because you’ve been gracious enough to take us along the journey each month with photos of your belly growing. Thanks so much for inviting me in! But like, did you gain any weight? I mean, really; not even a little back fat? Throw me a bone here.

You look like you’re glowing in so many of your pictures, I convinced myself you must have photo shopped the shit out of them. Because seriously, who looks that perfect all the time? 

I did some research and concluded that not one of them has been altered. Apparently, you just look that perfect all the time.

What the shit, Dude?

You’ll have to excuse my frustration. It’s just that I try to hold onto this crazy idea that all of the skinny, popular bitches I went to high school with – who had boyfriends and perfect skin and hair – who got asked out repeatedly by the boys I liked – are now extremely fat, unattractive trolls, living a miserable existence. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you? It’s not that I wish that life upon any of you, it’s just that the idea makes my torturous teen years seem karmically justified in some way.

Kind of like “Mean Girls Gone Gross,” you know? Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re awesome, and I totally

appreciated our friendship during what were – quite literally – the most excruciating years of my life. 

It’s not like I ever told you how much I wished I was you, or secretly prayed you’d wake up, on school picture day, with a horrible rash on your face; only to have to walk in the pouring rain to ensure a full-on afro. 

I never told you how much I enjoyed that time you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you with that girl from “The Tech.” How could I tell you I took so much pleasure in your suffering without sounding like a total bitch? 

Nope. I just sat back quietly, waiting; waiting for the day I would see you again, and you’d be hideous.

Seriously,  you’re like totally ruining this for me. 

While I realize that your facebook albums are just mere snap shots into your life, I wonder how you manage to take so many pictures with your kids looking happy and content. Even your new baby looks like she just got off a yoga matted meditation.

For the love, Woman! Get a zit!!! Just one zit. That’s all I’m asking. Throw me a bone , will ya? Stop being so selfish and just let yourself go a little tiny bit…no biggie. 

Think about it, okay? Awesome.

Sincerely,

(Julie Maida. You know, “Wrong Way Taylor.” Never mind, just forget it.)

P.S. Your boob job is amazing. Can you send me your surgeon’s digits?

God help me, I hate you so much.