You think that if you look like the next best thing on the magazine cover, it's going to increase your likelihood of finding happiness and love. Bitch, please. If you can't be happy fat and nappy, then you can't be happy skinny and blown out either. Your looks have nothing to do with your happiness...but happy bitches be fine as hell because happiness is a good fuckin' look. If you want to be happy, do what the fuck you want to do with the people who want to do that shit with you. Fuck a magazine cover.
You know what else is wrong with you women? Ok. I'll tell you:
You compete with other women for EVERYTHING! That's dumb ho shit. What the fuck are you competing for? What the fuck is the prize? And if you get it, do you think that it will still be there if you slack off for even a second? If you do, you's a crazy bitch. Stop competing and pay attention to what you like. Then create that shit. That's what you're a woman for. You create. Women create. That's what we do. That's what we're for. That's how we're made. So please, stop the dumb ho shit.
And you know what's REAAAAAALLLLY FUCKING WRONG with you women? Ok. I'll tell you:
You will turn to every fucking source in the universe for information
about how to get a man or lose weight or find happiness outside of the
source that you have right betwixt your ears. Stop letting these crazy
assed dudes tell you how to get into heaven or how to get a man in 20
days or how to cut fat in half. Bitch PLEEEEZE! Muthafuckas have made a
living off of telling you what the fuck to do with yourself. There is
literally an industry designed specifically to make you feel bad so that
fools can sell you shit you don't need. Now tell me this...and
uh...tell me this: with all your self-help booklets and pastor
anniversaries, has your life actually improved? Go 'head. I'll wait.
If you want the job or the man or the weight loss or any of the other shit, you've got to do the work. Ain't nobody ever lost weight reading about how to lose weight. Go dance. Go cook. Join a sport club. Mentor some teenagers. Teach a step team. Work at habitat for humanity. Do standup. Read your poetry at the next open mic. Learn to play the bass. Babysit one of your single mother friends' kids for a few days. Get your head out of the ignorance that is your stagnation and join creation with the rest of us who are bustin' our asses to try to help you understand that you're beautiful just the way you are. Kill them insecurities. Yes they should die. And I hope they BurN in HELL!
Love,
Blue
You compete with other women for EVERYTHING! That's dumb ho shit. What the fuck are you competing for? What the fuck is the prize? And if you get it, do you think that it will still be there if you slack off for even a second? If you do, you's a crazy bitch. Stop competing and pay attention to what you like. Then create that shit. That's what you're a woman for. You create. Women create. That's what we do. That's what we're for. That's how we're made. So please, stop the dumb ho shit.
And you know what's REAAAAAALLLLY FUCKING WRONG with you women? Ok. I'll tell you:
You will turn to every fucking source in the universe for information
about how to get a man or lose weight or find happiness outside of the
source that you have right betwixt your ears. Stop letting these crazy
assed dudes tell you how to get into heaven or how to get a man in 20
days or how to cut fat in half. Bitch PLEEEEZE! Muthafuckas have made a
living off of telling you what the fuck to do with yourself. There is
literally an industry designed specifically to make you feel bad so that
fools can sell you shit you don't need. Now tell me this...and
uh...tell me this: with all your self-help booklets and pastor
anniversaries, has your life actually improved? Go 'head. I'll wait.If you want the job or the man or the weight loss or any of the other shit, you've got to do the work. Ain't nobody ever lost weight reading about how to lose weight. Go dance. Go cook. Join a sport club. Mentor some teenagers. Teach a step team. Work at habitat for humanity. Do standup. Read your poetry at the next open mic. Learn to play the bass. Babysit one of your single mother friends' kids for a few days. Get your head out of the ignorance that is your stagnation and join creation with the rest of us who are bustin' our asses to try to help you understand that you're beautiful just the way you are. Kill them insecurities. Yes they should die. And I hope they BurN in HELL!
Love,
Blue
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