Well, I must say that I never wanted to meet you. I never wanted anyone I love to meet you. Hell, I never wanted anyone to meet you, not even my junior high school bullies. Regardless, here we are. It appears that I have to endure you. So, in the absence of any other choice, it’s time to roll my sleeves up, take my hoops out and get ready for a good old fashion bar fight.
Am I scared? Bitch, of course I’m scared. What kind of ridiculous question is that? I can feel that fear turning to fight, though, which means it sucks to be you right about now. You say you’re genetic, so you’re going after my family…all my girls? How the hell do you intend to do that? You’ve lost the element of surprise. They’re on to you now. They can root you out and eliminate you before you even plant your demon seed.
What? You said you’re going to rob me of my youth and my beauty. You know what? Thank you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to pound the last nail into the coffin of my vanity and prove that beauty is so much more than you can take away.
Oh no you didn’t! You did not just say that you’re going after my kids. They’re sassy. They’re mouthy. They’re fighters, like their mother. You’ve just created the perfect storm. They now get to show you what badasses they are.
You’re going to drain my bank account? Good luck. I’m surrounded by people who love me. People who are just as dedicated to kicking your ass as I am. Reinforcements who, on the days that I can’t fight anymore, are ready to pour out love and support and high fives and fist pumps and groin kicks. Yes, I now you’re a girl, but that shit still hurts.
In short, I have no choice but to fight you. You are a playground bully. You are a nasty, mean girl. You are one hell of a downer. I promise that I’m not going to let you show up and piss all over everyone’s good time. You may take my hair…you may take my breasts…you may try to take my femininity…but you will not take who I am. Throw down, bitch. It’s on…and I will win.
– Agnes Nutter