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Years ago, at the prompting of my therapist, I began writing and one of my assignments was to write an autobiography detailing all the significant and/or traumatizing events I had experienced over the course of my life. How fun! However, this is when I had a major revelation…

God had not just played a cruel joke on me by giving me this life after all. She had knowingly arranged for a bunch of stupid shit to happen to me knowing that one day I would write it all down, start laughing super hard, and eventually recoup my therapy costs. How did I know this?  Because if I read about this shit happening to someone, I would think it was hilarious, that’s why. I WAS LEFT AT A GAS STATION WHEN I WAS EIGHT BY A CAR FULL OF PEOPLE WHO DID NOT SPEAK ENGLISH AND I DID NOT SPEAK THEIR LANGUAGE. Not even making this up.  I ALSO ONLY GREW ONE BOOB. Yep. I PAINTED MY HUSBAND’S OFFICE HOT PINK WHEN I WAS PISSED AT HIM. Calm down, I caulked and taped it; I am not totally psycho. I ACTUALLY CARED IF MY CHILDREN’S CLOTHES MATCHED. Mind Blown.

Anyway, I used to be the quintessential woman. Yes, I was pretty much incredible. I took extraordinary measures to mask any imperfections I had branded myself with, despite my skyrocketing anxiety as I tried to maintain this facade. Fortunately, you missed that phase of my life, and I am much funnier now.

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