Why hasn't the world ended yet?

Well it's two thousand and seven.

This year, it's all me.

I am not going to starve myself for a month trying to loose my thighs, only to give up after one really bad cramp and a serious craving for lindor chocolates.

I am not going to force myself to tame my temper and pretend that everything is fine when I know damn well that I have every god dammed right to be pissed and YOU need to hear about it. Loudly.

I am not going to sacrifice my 300 dollar-a-month underwear habit just so I can spend my money buying you hot clothes because you have no style. Guess what baby, all the sexy get ups I pour myself into are for ME. Not you. I like going to bed feeling like a million bucks. And just because it's silky doesn't mean you get to fuck me. What happens if the house burns down? You can run out in your crappy boxers, I'm gonna slip on my lace stiletto slippers and wait for the firemen, thank you very much.

I'm also gonna let you buy me more shit. You make XXXXX amount more money than I do. And now you're sharing.

I'm not gonna let my friends push me around. I'm sick and fucking tired of being the angelic creation that swoops in and guides you in the right direction. To put it bluntly for Tracy: If you don't know how to stop fucking everything within a 10 mile radius, try closing your legs. I'm sick of hearing about your boy troubles. Actually I'm sick of hearing about your 15 different boy troubles.

Mom, I know that I'm your only daughter, but I'm an adult, and I'm sorry but I'm going to have sex, drink, and smoke the occasional joint. I listen to hard rock, I like blood and guts movies, and I have the worst drunken sailor mouth that you will ever encounter. But you should love me anyway. Don't change me because you can't. I stopped listening to you a long time ago. So what if I end up pregnant in a year, and married and divorced in two? It's my life. You lived yours. (Miss I-got-married-7-months-before-you-were-born) Besides, who would you worry about if you didn't have me?

Oh, and NO I WILL NOT TALK TO YOU ABOUT MY FEELINGS FOR MY BOYFRIEND OR THE SEXUAL POSITIONS WE HAVE TRIED. Yes, I'm mature, but that's just way too fucking weird.

Some days I'm gonna skip showering. You're gonna be fine with it. And you're gonna tell me I smell like candy.

I'm actually gonna tell you I'm not on the pill and we're just really lucky. And I'll actually go on the pill because I hate having to worry about it. I want kids. But not this year. And if you don't, I'm gonna leave because that's gay and I'm not wasting my time.

I'm going to girlify your house too. Boo hoo.

I'm going to watch some porn and master oral. Not for you, but because I feel bad when I get down there and get bored and just hover. I'm pretty sure I could have some fun doing it if I made it dramatic.

So basically, I'm acting like an egotistical stuck up bitch for the next year. Bow down.