Breaking up is hard to do.

Dear Stoned Nudist Pup*:
*Name changed for security purposes. (Actually, just to throw you off a little. The addressee will be revealed at the end. See if you can figure it out, though…)

I hate to say this to you in a detached, impersonal manner such as an open letter on my public blog, but we need to break up. You’ve been weighing me down for too long, and I’m sick of it. I know, I know, you’ve stuck around through all of my mood swings and verbal attacks, and maybe I should feel grateful. But I really, really don’t. I mean, no matter how many times I’ve moaned and griped and complained about how completely unkind, annoying and unwelcome you are, you still hang onto me like an inflatable pool toy that got stuck around Augustus Gloop’s pudgy belly. It’s sad how pathetic you are. And you know what else? You’re ugly. Not only that, but having you around makes ME look bad, too. You really get in the way of my sense of fashion and even self-confidence because, let’s face it, I’m just not as hot when you’re following me all over the place. And I seriously hate that you always stretch out my jeans. Totally not cool, on so many levels, man.

Now, I’ll admit, I would give you a second chance in a heartbeat, if only you were willing to adjust a little. Maybe move up to a more prestigious position rather than being the butt of everyone’s jokes (or the added load of a spare tire to my perfectly sufficient set of wheels…so to speak). Let’s face it, my cup does not exactly runneth over, and if you made a bit of effort to, you know, support me in other areas, we could make this work. But you’d have to really commit, and hold your head high (no slouching or sagging, ya dig?) and you would also have to promise not to hold me back when I want to really run wild.

Unfortunately, I know I can’t just shift you around and make things all better. I’m not so delusional. (Wishful thinking, yes. Delusions, no.) So this is it. I have to rid myself of you. You can whine and fuss and hold on for dear life, but it will only make it worse when I finally obliterate you. I propose you start prepping yourself for a change of scenery, because one way or another, I will defeat you. Or you could just surrender, drop the nonsense and take a freaking hike.

Thanks for trying to justify yourself by claiming to keep me warm at night, protecting me from harm in the form of sharp or heavy objects, and even the shot-in-the-dark claim that you might actually add to my image somehow (“more to love”?…I don’t think so), but let’s face it. We’re just not meant for each other. So back the heck off, get out of my way, leave me alone, sayonara, good riddance, and may you never return to me again (except, of course, in the case of the second chance, as mentioned above).

Sticking to my guns (and not those sticky rolls you love),
Tabitha

P.S. If I can’t get rid of you before August 8th, 2009, I will seriously go crazy with fury and frustration. So what do you say you cut an old pal a break and just back off, nice and easy? And also forever. That would be swell.

For the record, Stoned Nudist Pup is not an actual person. “Stoned Nudist Pup” is code (also an anagram) for “Stupid Ten Pounds.” That’s right, folks. I’m breaking up with my extra flab. Oh, if only it were that easy.

Posted for the 20SB February Blog Carnival