Gripe

The thing that DRIVES ME CRAZY about my parents is that they’re constantly trying to make me into something I am not.

Their vision of who I am.

Instead of just accepting me exactly as I come at them.

I have sex.

That doesn’t mean I’m a slut.

Although there are times I know being a little less discerning might be A LOT MORE FUN!

I wear low cut tops and dresses with plunging necklines.

Hey! I like my cleavage and I share it with the world.

If you seriously want to help me, ask me what areas of my life I’d like to improve, don’t just try to improve the ones you want to change.

I’ll tell anyone.

I’m bad with finances.

I need motivation to exercise.

I’m not the neatest person in the world.

THESE ARE THE THINGS I CAN USE YOUR HELP ON!

Not my sex life and my décolleté.

I know you wish I was a little less overtly sexual.

I know you wish I would tone down my outfits.

It’s in the back of my head.

And, you know, if I wear something I think you’ll find particularly disturbing (such as black vinyl or transparent lace) I have the decency to put a coat on over it so you don’t have to look at it and FREAK THE FUCK OUT.

Is it wrong of me to wish for parents that can just love me for who I am and stop trying to constantly meddle in life decisions I make that don’t require their input?

Yes, I’m wearing the dress.

Yes, it’s lowcut.

BUT I FUCKING LIKE IT THAT WAY!

That is all.

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