i swear, i’m gonna scream the next time some douchebag i knew in elementary or middle school messages me out of the blue with “whoa, when did you turn hot!?”

i’ve ALWAYS looked like this, stupid. just because i grew some boobs and let my hair down doesn’t mean i “turned hot”. i just hit puberty. wanna know something else extra special that comes with the curves and the cleavage? i bleed out my vag every month. still hot to you?

i’m not even all that attractive. compared to some of the girls out there, i’m just an A.D.D. goofball who’s making stupid faces in most of my pictures. maybe you think i’m desperate because of that. maybe you think you’re paying me some kind of elevated compliment that’ll have me eating out of your metaphorical hands. that some shallow facebook-stalking teenage boy who checks out girls online thinks a neck-down bikini picture of mine is worth drooling over. oh yeah baby—that makes me melt.

i guess i get it; i know i was the weird, antisocial chick whose “hot” face you probably couldn’t see because it was half-hidden behind a good book. and maybe you couldn’t see my “sexy” body because it was covered by what every adolescent girl these days seems to dread. (i.e., clothing.) you were less than interested in me as a person then—i was the pariah because i marched to the beat my own drum, and individuality wasn’t HOT back then was it?

AND THEN what gets me even more is the fact that all of a sudden, once you “rediscover” me and all my “hot” glory, you decide you want to talk to me. you ask me for my number. you try to flatter me by catering to my admittedly vain girlish nature by complimenting my looks but guess frickin what? i could care less if you find me physically attractive. i know you’re still not interested in anything i have to say to you. you only want to talk to me because you want the right to brag to your loser friends “hey remember that weird chick from ___th grade? well look at her now dude—and i got her number!”. it’s a pride thing. you get to “claim” me like you mined the diamond in the rough. 

well guess what? i ain’t your diamond and you tick me off. go read something about me before you talk to me mmmkay? it’ll prove you’re not as brainless as the rest of the male population. and if you’re gonna hassle a girl abut her looks, go find someone prettier than me. you look like you’re downgrading and it’s not flattering to either of us.